Chafed
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: *Sequel to Chosen* Peeta and Cato are recovering from the horrors they experienced during the Hunger Games while also trying to keep up the idea of a love triangle with the sadistic Harold from the Capitol. With rumours of rebellion stirring and the Quarter Quell fast approaching,the couple have many obstacles thrown at them before they can be together.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hello folks! Here is the sequel to Chosen! I hope I will be seeing some famaliar faces reading and reviewing and maybe some new ones too! I'd strongly suggest reading Chosen before you read Chafed as a lot of this won't make sense if you don't.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or its characters and plotlines.**_

**Chafed**

Chapter One

Glasses. Braces. School.

This was the price of still being sixteen.

It felt like forever since Peeta had been to school. Not that the school he now attended was anything like his old one in District 12. With only one other person in the class, his persistance to finish his education resulted in four hours of class every day with a private tutor. It was much more difficult than he remembered it to be, the subjects much more challenging and the work much, much more harder.

"Einstein's theory of relativity is a famous theory, but it's little understood. Basically, the theory of relativity refers to two different elements of the same theory: general relativity and special relativity," his tutor, Ms. Morrison explained. "The theory of special relativity was introduced first, and was later considered to be a special case of the more comprehensive theory of general relativity."

Peeta had a habit of drifting off in the middle of class, either busying himself with sharpening his pencil or pretending to clean his glasses. After everything that had happened in the past year, he found it very difficult to focus on anything other than making sure that he was living his life properly. Hence why he wanted to finish his education. And this sort of looped back round to his issue with lack of focus.

It had been five months since the Hunger Games. Since Cato had won and they had returned home to District 2. It was now December and the weather was getting colder. Even as he sat there in Ms. Morrison's dining room, he could see speckles of snow drifting to the ground and beginning to stick. They got snow nearly every year in District 12 but it was more around January time than December.

"The Theory of Relativity Concepts are: Einstein's theory of special relativity - localized behavior of objects in inertial frames of reference, generally only relevant at speeds very near the speed of light. Lorentz transformations - the transformation equations used to calculate the coordinate changes under special relativity," Ms. Morrison continued, unaware of how both her students had completely zoned out. "Einstein's theory of general relativity - the more comprehensive theory, which treats gravity as a geometric phenomenon of a curved spacetime coordinate system, which also includes noninertial-i.e. accelerating-frames of reference. What we must do now is ask, what is relativity? Well-"

Peeta's only other classmate-a thirteen year old girl genius called Ava Green-stuck her hand into the air. "Ms. Morrison, can we leave early?" she asked.

Ms. Morrison's demeanour slumped with the realization that she had been doing nothing but rambling to her students. She let the textbook drop onto the table and she sighed dramatically. "Miss Green, must you always ask this question every day?"

"Well, are you going to go over the same stuff every day?" Ava said in a dull voice. "Look, Peeta's nearly asleep!"

Hearing his name, Peeta snapped out of his staring at the snow trance. "Huh?" he asked, thinking he'd been asked a question.

Ms. Morrison threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. "Honestly, the two of you have the attention spans of a newt! Do you even know the amount of money your parents spent to get these sessions Miss Green? And you too Mr Mellark?"

Ava scoffed and flicked a pencil sharpen across the table. "You're lucky we're both even here," she muttered. "A genius and a celebrity, you should be paying _us_ for being here."

Peeta sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, sorry, what is it we're learning?" He tried to look more enthusiastic, pushing himself to sit up straighter and taking his pencil back up into his hand.

Ms Morrison shook her head. "No, no, I'd rather teach you both when you're not slacking in focus." She closed the book and sighed before smiling. "It is near Christmas after all I suppose."

Now that was something he never celebrated back home in 12. They were all very well aware of the holiday but it was never something people celebrated. District 2 was quite the contray, decorating the streets with decorations and lights that made the whole District sparkle. A gigantic christmas tree had been set up in the square-which confused Peeta until Cato explained to him that it was a Christmas tradition to put up a tree and decorate it with trinkets and tinsel.

Ava closed her book with a flourish and sighed happily. "So how are the braces Peeta?" she asked as Ms Morrison tidied everything up.

Peeta's stylists had decided that since Cato had won the Games and was now a victor, he deserved a partner with perfect teeth (Peeta was still waiting for some answers on a postcard on that one) like his own. So a couple of weeks after returning to 2, he was fitted with a pair of temporary braces. They were specially made so that they'd fix his teeth before the Victory Tour in May. Since there was such a short space of time for this to happen, the braces hurt nearly 24/7. It certainly confirmed the Capitol's not-so- secret motto of 'image is everything'.

"Think of it this way: my teeth feel like they are being squished together with a pair of plyers," Peeta explained, causing Ava to laugh. She also had a pair of braces herself but because her teeth weren't on some perfection schedule she went through the usual 'tightened every ten weeks' routine whereas he had to have his 'tightened every two weeks' to make sure they were perfect for Cato's victory tour.

"Hang in there," Ava said. "I'm sure it'll be worth it. For the Capitol anyway." Ms Morrison was just about to leave the dining room when Ava told her to stop. "By the way: Classical relativity-defined initially by Galileo Galilei and refined by Sir Isaac Newton-involves a simple transformation between a moving object and an observer in another inertial frame of reference. If you are walking in a moving train, and someone stationary on the ground is watching, your speed relative to the observer will be the sum of your speed relative to the train and the train's speed relative to the observer. You're in one inertial frame of reference, the train itself-and anyone sitting still on it-are in another, and the observer is in still another."

Ms Morrison's mouth hung open in surprise and Peeta couldn't hold in his laughter, holding his hand to his mouth to try and hide it. "Well . . . done," she said in awe.

"I told you, you should be paying to have me in this class," Ava said with a wide grin. She went over to the window and peered out at the white scenery. "Oh, Peeta, your boyfriend's waiting on you." She spun on her heel with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Peeta couldn't help smiling at the thought of Cato sitting outside on the wall ringing Ms Morrison's garden like he did every day at four o'clock so he'd be ready to walk him home. As an eighteen-going-on-nineteen year old boy, Cato had finished his education and no longer needed to go to school.

"I shouldn't keep him waiting then," Peeta decided, packing his satchel and getting out of his seat. He gave Ava a hug and scruffed her hair before leaving. As soon as he stepped outside, he rolled his eyes when he saw Ms Morrison talking to Cato by the wall. She treated Cato like he was his dad-just because he had paid for his tutoring with some of his victory money-and every time she was concerned about his performance or marks, the first person she'd go to was Cato.

Cato found it hilarious. He'd always act serious when Ms Morrison spoke to him and as soon as she disappeared he'd burst out laughing and start teasing him about how he needed to 'get his act together.' Ms Morrison glanced at him and sighed, saying one more thing to Cato before walking back towards Peeta. She smiled at him as she passed him into the threshold of her house.

Peeta sighed and treaded through the thin layer of snow that smattered the ground. Cato was already grinning at him which wasn't a good sign. What had Ms Morrison told him? Folding his arms against the cold, Peeta joined him by the wall. "Hey?" he said slightly hesitantly.

"Hey slacker," Cato replied, the grin seeming to have been permanantly imprinted on his face. "A little birdie tells me you've been very distracted in class."

"I wonder what little birdie that was," Peeta muttered dryly.

Cato laughed and stood up, brushing the snow from his pants. "You know I paid good money for your classes," he said. "You're supposed to learn, not get distracted."

"I know but it's so boring sometimes!" Peeta protested as they started walking down the road. "I mean, it's fun when we're doing english literature and stuff but all this complicated stuff Ms Morrison is sticking through us is so boring! I swear, I feel like the possibility of being bored to death actually increases when she opens up that damn psysics textbook!" His top lip got caught on his brace as he spoke and he sighed in frustration, tugging it off and wincing when it pulled some skin off.

"Psysics is great," Cato said. "It's much better than some of the other subjects you could be stuck with."

"Like what?" Peeta demanded.

"Chemistry sucks," Cato explained. He took Peeta's satchel-ignoring his protests-and slung it over his shoulder. "It's all protons and neutrons etc. Believe me, chemistry is much more complicated than Einstein's theory of relativity." He took Peeta's hand and they continued on hand in hand.

"God, it's cold," Peeta complained, his breath coming out in white smokey puffs.

"Oh you're full of complaints today, aren't you?" Cato chuckled.

Peeta pushed his glasses up his nose and huffed. Another accessory Snow had decided to bestow on him. It apparently helped increase the vulnerable image and after a couple of months of wearing the damn things, they screwed up his eyes and he had to wear them all the time. "Just stressed out, I suppose," he muttered.

"Hey there's nothing to be stressed about," Cato said, fishing for his keys as they reached his doorstep. "Even if you fail your exams, you're still going to have a stable life afterwards." He looked at Peeta and smirked. "But that's not an excuse to slack off."

"Stable life? What, with my victor boyfriend?" Peeta teased.

Cato grinned and stuck his key into the lock. "Exactly."

Peeta chuckled as Cato swung the door open of their new home in the victor's village. Since winners were common in District 2, Cato had the power to claim two houses in the massive housing estate: one for himself and one for his family. Kayla and his parents lived just down the road from them. Living alone was strange and came with a weird sense of responsibility. It took them at least a week to figure out how the washing machine worked (in the end they only found out how when Cato's mum came to visit).

Dropping the satchel off by the coat rack, Cato locked the door and shook the snow out of his hair. "Have any homework?" he asked.

"No, dad," Peeta replied. He shrugged off his coat and hung it off on the coat rack. He kicked his satchel irritabely and pushed his glasses up for what felt like the millionth time. Cato tapped his chin up and adjusted the specs so that they sat on his nose properly.

"Snow's an asshole," he muttered. "Making you wear these damn things. They mute the blue in your eyes." Peeta blushed and smiled bashfully, never having adjusted to the compliments. Cato smiled and slipped the glasses off, causing Peeta to blink in disoreintation. Everything slid out of focus now that his eyes were screwed up and he had to reach out and take Cato's arm to stop himself from reering back.

"I'm sure I look like a horrid pre-teen right now," he said. He smiled the widest smile he could, baring all of the glittering metal braces on his teeth. "I'm blind, my teeth aren't good enough and I have exams to stress over. Whelp, there has to be a silver lining somewhere, right?"

Cato chuckled. "Bound to be," he said. "Maybe the fact that you rock the geek chic look is it?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure that's it," Peeta said sarcastically. He took his glasses back and put them on. "Do you want me to get started on dinner?" Out of the both of them, it became very apparent that Peeta was the over all better cooker than Cato. Therefore there was only one night a week where the career would have another shot at cooking. Each time being more diastrous as the time before.

"No, not yet. You're just home. It's like rescueing a puppy and then putting it to work ratting the yard as soon as you get to the house," Cato answered.

"So you're comparing me to a puppy then?" Peeta asked, heading into the dining room. "I guess that's another animal off the list. First kitty, now puppy. I'm going to end up mauling myself out of hatred, you know."

"Well," Cato said, following him into the dining room, "you're only a kitty when I make you purr."

Peeta laughed and sat on the table, propping cane up against it just beside him. "As far as I remember, you've only managed to do that twice since what? July? I really don't think that validates a nickname of 'kitty'."

Cato grinned and sat down beside him. "Is that a challenge Mr Mellark?"

"I don't know, does it sound like one?" Peeta teased. "I will warn you though, the braces can give wicked mouth ulcers. You've managed this long, are you sure you'd want to ruin it just because I don't think you can make me purrrrrr." He rolled his tongue on the last word to draw it out and sound like he was purring like a cat.

"I don't need to cut myself up on your braces," Cato replied. "I've got everything I need right here." He ran his finger along the underside of his jaw, smiling when Peeta closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. "And here." He softly kissed the area where his finger just rested. He slowly stood up, letting his mouth linger on the spot, immediately getting tugged closer when Peeta wound his arms around his waist and pulled him towards him.

A large portion of their lives alone were taken up by this. It was the honeymoon stage of their relationship, the stage were you can't keep your hands off each other and are constantly in need of each other's touch. Peeta was still in the early stages of fully being able to understand the concept of how sex worked and Cato's boldness always caught him off guard but he was definitely getting used to it.

"Are you going to purr for me little kitty," Cato murmered into his ear before biting the shell teasingly. Peeta moaned, tightening his arms around his waist and pressing him as close to him as he could. He spread his legs so Cato could stand as close to him as he could.

"Probably not," Peeta murmered, having to squint through his glasses as they began to fog up. Cato sighed and pushed his shirt up, every new piece of skin revealed calling to him like presents begging to be unwrapped. Peeta sat back slightly and obdiently raised his arms, only to have them trapped above his head when Cato stopped pulling his shirt off. "Cato?" he asked.

"Punishment for not concentrating in class today," Cato said, tugging his own shirt off. "Can't touch me. Sorry." Peeta whined pathetically, his hands aching to be freed so he could run them over the smooth planes of the career's skin. Cato grinned at his neediness and gently pushed him so he lay flat on his back on the table. Peeta gasped at the feeling of the cold wood underneath his skin, his back bowing in surprise.

"Come on Cato, don't be mean," he said childishly.

Cato barely heard him, distracted by what had to be the best thing that ever sat on his dining room table ever. Glasses askew, chest heaving, pants oh-so-incredibly-tight, Peeta was the sexiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He licked his lips like a predator about to attack it's prey. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before working his way down lower.

"Ngh-C-c-cato, we should m-move to the b-bed-room," Peeta stammered. He groaned as he kissed his chest, locking his legs around Cato's waist.

"No, I'm going to take you right here on this table," Cato murmered against his skin, taking his already puckered nipple into his mouth.

"Ah, ah, ah Cato!" Peeta keened, squirming on the table top. Cato pinched his other nipple, enjoying the reaction he got. "Oh god Cato, you're killing me!"

Cato slid down his body so that his mouth was hovering above his crotch, his hot breath making him shiver and whimper helplessly. "What's the principal of relativity?" he asked.

Peeta frowned. "What?" he gasped, resisting the urge to buck his hips.

"What's the principal of relativity?" Cato repeated with a smirk.

"I-I-I d-don't . . . I don't e-ven think-" He groaned as Cato walked his fingers along the waistband of his pants, waiting on his answer. "I-uh I-I can't t-think when you-you do that." Peeta's hips lifted off the table as he unintentionally sought out friction. It was as if Cato didn't care though, his fingers taking a detour up his torso.

"Come on, it's what you've been learning," he teased, pinching his nipple mockingly.

Peeta moaned, struggling for words. "Um, uh, t-the l-l-aws of physics are the same f-for a-LL inertial r-ref-ref-reference f-frames!"

"You see? You do know all this," Cato said. He curled his fingers around his arousal and gave him a firm squeeze. Then he did it again: Peeta purred. Again, he wasn't sure how he'd made the noise. It just happened. "But," the career said, tugging his pants down and letting them drop to the floor, "that was only the first postulate. You need to tell me the second one as well."

Peeta groaned. "Oh come on Cato," he begged. "I'll pay more attention in class, I promise."

"Nah-ah. Come on, you have to answer properly to get full marks," Cato said, his tone reeking of condesention. "The Principle of Constancy of the Speed of Light . . . . ?" As Peeta struggled for an answer, he slipped his hand into his underwear and pinched his behind, inflicting a yelp from the writhing boy underneath him.

"L-light always propagates through a vacuum a-at a def-definite velocity which is independent of the state of motion of the em-emitting body," Peeta stuttered.

"There you go," Cato said. "Now all you have to do is say that to Ms Morrison and we won't have to do this again."

"Please stop talking and just get on with it," Peeta begged desperately.

"Okay, okay, whatever you say babe."

_**A little while later:**_

"Hey Beth."

Beth smiled and gave a little wave. Peeta had adjusted to Cato's little sister's three alters and was able to recognize them when they had control over Kayla's mind. It was odd at first but over the months it had become easier. For example, Beth was much more shy than Kayla and would sway from side to side as she stood, playing with her hair and occasionally giggling.

"Um, hi Peeta," she said in a small voice. "Do you have any tinned carrots? Mr. Hadley ate them all and Mrs Hadley needs them for her stew."

"Sure, come on in," Peeta said, stepping aside to let the girl through. "Cato! Beth's here!" he called up the stairs as he passed them on the way to the kitchen.

"Okay! Be down in a minute!" Cato called back.

Peeta looked back at Beth to find her standing apprehensively by the door. "It's okay," he said. "I don't bite."

Beth followed him into the kitchen slightly nervously. He went to the cupboard where they kept their tinned goods and scoured for the carrots. As he searched, footsteps thudded down the stairs. "Cato!" Beth said happily, launching herself at him for a hug.

"Hey veggie," Cato said, returning the hug. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Beth replied shyly.

"Cato, do we have any carrots?" Peeta asked, pushing up on his tip toes as he had to hoke deeper into the cupboard. "You mum is making stew and needs some."

"We should have," Cato replied. "Yeah, here, let me get them, they're on the top shelf." He leaned over him and took the carrot tin from the top shelf. He handed Beth the tin which she accepted with a small smile.

"Thanks," she said. "I better get back to them, she needs them asap." She gave Cato another hug and waved at Peeta before hurrying away.

"Wow, she couldn't get out fast enough," Peeta said.

"I know, she's awfully scared of being on her own around people she's unsure of," Cato replied.

"Surely she's not unsure of you," Peeta said. "You're Kayla's brother, she doesn't have a reason to be unsure of you-oh wait, it's me isn't it?" Cato nodded. "Well, I suppose that's understandable enough . . ."

"It's not that you've done anything to make Beth unsure of you, it's just because she doesn't know you enough to deem you trustable yet. Especially since she doesn't believe the love triangle's a hoax," Cato explained.

Peeta frowned. "She doesn't believe it's fake?" he asked.

"Herself and Jack don't believe me. They think you actually have something with . . . _him_. It's infuriating," Cato explained.

Peeta hadn't seen Harold since that night Cato beat him up. It would be a lie if he said he was relieved not to have him around but the very fact that he seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth unnerved him. Even the pure mention of him put him on edge and he rubbed his wrists anxiously. Cato saw him doing this and clenched his jaw, counting backwards from ten to calm himself down like Peeta had instructed him to do when he got angry.

"As long as you believe me then I don't care about anyone else," Peeta said.

"How's the scars healing up?" Cato murmured, his eyes sliding down to his ankles.

"Fine." Peeta scooted around him and tried to leave the kitchen, only to have his wrist grabbed to tug him to an abrupt stop.

"Are you ready to talk about it yet?" Cato asked.

Peeta immediately shook his head. Cato knew of what Harold done to him when he had been in the Games, but he felt that he hadn't spoken enough about it for his conscious to not have the heavy weight lifted off it. Peeta refused to see a therapist and spent a lot of his time sitting in sober silence, either doing his homework or baking. He didn't want to worry Cato with all the details of Harold's sadistic behaviour towards him and had no desire to divulge it all to a complete stranger either.

"You do realize I just want to help you, right?" Cato asked, following him as he exited the kitchen and went up the stairs.

"You do realize that I don't need help, right?" Peeta replied sourly. He hated it when they got into this. He just wanted to get the victory tour over with so he could go back to 12 for a bit and then come back here and live a quiet life with Cato. But that wasn't going to happen. Because he had to pretend to be in love with Harold as well.

"You may not think you do but I know that you can't just go through two traumas so closely pressed together in your timeline and walk around like you're unscathed from it all," Cato said. "I may not be a therapist but I do have enough common sense to guess these things you know."

"But you're just guessing!" Peeta said, whirling around so he was facing him again. They stood in the hallway over looking the foyer of the house, the glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling glinting in the evening sun. "Not all guesses are correct you know!"

"Have you been taking your medication?" Cato asked seriously.

Peeta folded his arms indignantly. "Have you been taking yours?" he fired back.

Ever since the end of the Games, they had been put on medication for PTS by the local healer, their tablets transported from the Capitol itself. Cato didn't find difficulty in taking his tablets as instructed but Peeta had his moments where he just couldn't do it. Not that he didn't want to or felt it would be a bad idea to take his meds, there was just a part of him that just _couldn't _do it. Cato knew this and whenever Peeta would suddenly get himself worked up into an irritated mood, it would be the first thing he'd ask. When he hadn't taken his tablets, things like Harold or the Capitol or the love triangle would become triggers, subjects to be avoided.

"You know I've been taking mine," Cato said.

"And you just _know_ I haven't been taking mine?" Peeta snapped, offended.

"Yes because A) You went into a bad mood as soon as you discovered that Beth and Jack don't believe us about the love triangle being fake, B) You're very nearly yelling at me which shows that you're getting worked up and C) You didn't take them yesterday either and I know this because you didn't sleep which is also why D) I think you can't focus in class. Because you aren't sleeping properly because you aren't taking your pills."

"I'm not getting worked up!" Peeta protested. Cato rolled his eyes and took his hand, tugging him towards their bedroom. "I took my pills, don't you trust me when I say that I did?" Once in their room, Cato immediately walked around the bed and pulled open the drawer on Peeta's side and took out his tablet case. It was split up into seven days, each section still jingling with the sound of the tablets inside that had yet to be consumed.

"What are these?" Cato demanded, holding the case in front of Peeta's eyes. "The tablets you've taken?"

Peeta scowled and snatched the case off him. "Yes," he said. "I refilled it."

"Peeta, it's Wednesday."

"Urgh, just get off my back alright?!" Peeta yelled. "I'll take them when I'm ready to take them!" They had this arguement nearly every single time Cato discovered he wasn't taking his medication. He knew Cato only wanted what was best for him but sometimes he wished that he didn't. It was so infuriatingly irritating to have him constantly on his back about his meds.

"You're taking them now," Cato said firmly, assuming the position of father figure/boyfriend again. He took the case back from Peeta and snapped open the Wednesday section, dropping every pill except the one to help him sleep at night out onto his palm. "Here."

"No," Peeta said defiantly. He was in no mood for taking his pills and didn't want to have to do it just because Cato told him to. "Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you can tell me what to do!"

"Take them," Cato repeated.

Peeta growled. "No," he said, throwing himself onto the bed in a strop.

"You complain about looking like a teenager and then you act like one," Cato mused. Peeta made an unimpressed noise at the back of his throat and turned his back on him on the bed, making it clear that he wasn't going to talk to him. "I'm going to get you a glass of water and when I come back you're going to take your pills."

"Good luck with that."

He lay on the bed with a scowl on his face while Cato got a glass of water, refusing to even look at him when he came back in. Cato sat down behind him and patted his arm. "Come on grumpy," he said. "Time to take your meds."

"I don't want to," Peeta murmured, buring his face into the pillow.

"I don't care if you don't want to," Cato said, trying to stay firm. "It's for your own good. Look, I lied when I said I'd take mine but I'm going to do it now too." He reached across him to take his pills out of his own bedside table and downed his Wednesday pills in one go. "See, all gone." When Peeta refused to turn around, Cato sighed and rested his hand on his hip, rubbing him comfortingly. "Come on you grump, you made sure I took the sober pill back in June, now I'm doing the same for you."

"I don't like the pills. They're chalky and make me tired and aroused all the time," Peeta complained. "And I'm already spent from the dining room table after school earlier. I don't want to lose my dignity again."

Cato grinned, finding it hard not to laugh at the memory of what Peeta was referring to. After spending a lot of his life on mood stabilizers and anti-depressants for his bi-polar, Cato was used to the increse in sex drive medication would sometimes give you, whereas Peeta was not. On the second week on their meds, Peeta had had a particularly hard day and been put onto an increased dosage for a week. It made him tired 24/7 and he went to bed early nearly every day.

The increased dosage's effects took their toll on his body and Cato came into the bedroom one day to find him lying fast asleep, touching himself to a wet dream he was having. He had decided it best not to wake up him-not just because he was being a total perv and wanted to sit and watch him touch himself-but also to save him the embarrassment of having him wake up with his hand down his pants.

It was quite amusing though, watching his completely innocent boyfriend muttering his name in his sleep and groping himself with skilled hands. Peeta was horrified when he woke up, only really realizing what he had done because of the stickiness in his underwear and on his hand.

"Ah, don't feel so bad," Cato said, twirling the pills around his fingers. "It happens to the best of us. When I was first put on my anit-depressants I humped one of Kayla's bears in my sleep. She never slept with that thing again, I think she threw it out actually."

Peeta chuckled. "Don't blame her," he said.

Cato smiled. "Are you going to take your pills now? Just remember, if you do, I'll be right here to help you if you get too hot for your clothes."

Peeta turned around on the bed to face Cato, a small smile gracing his features. "Give them here then," he said, sitting up. Relieved, Cato handed him the pills and the glass of water, watching him carefully as he swallowed them all whole.

"You're much crueler to yourself when you're masturbating than I am when we're having sex, I'm just putting that out there right now," Cato said. Peeta quirked an eyebrow at him over the rim of the glass, braces chinking against the object as he swallowed the rest of the water. "So maybe before you complain about me, have a conversation with good ol' lefty there who seems to think it appropriate to torture poor Peeta Jr. to death."

"God, I'm tired," Peeta mumbled. "I think I might go to sleep."

"Ah, ah, ah," Cato said, stopping him from lying down. "Wait. Did you say you have homework or not?"

"No," Peeta groaned, burrowing himself under the covers and sticking his head under the pillow. "I don't any." Cato smiled and stood up, pulling the comforter up to his neck and pressing a kiss to the back of his head.

"Night babe," he whispered. "I'll join you soon."

~xXx~

Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a perv.

He couldn't help it.

It was a weird side effect, sleep masturbation. Not that he was complaining.

Cato had woken up to the sound of a gentle moan, which wasn't half as startling as he'd first expected it to be. He turned around on the bed and nearly groaned out loud. God, how could someone so innocent be so damn prone to the worst of the pill side affects? Never mind Peeta being embarrassed, Cato was going to end up god-damned ashamed for the amount of times he was going to sit and watch him touch himself in his sleep because of the meds.

Peeta was sleeping on his stomach, his head turned towards Cato. He was completely out of it-his eyes slid shut and the usual soft snores he would release every night emnating from his sleeping form. Every now and then, he'd bite his lip and screw his eyebrows up, his face morphing into that of undeniable pleasure.

Cato couldn't resist letting his eyes slide down the curve of his back to where the covers were bunching up at his waist. His hand was down his pants again and by the looks of it he was groping himself, his hips rising up and down in a slow, rythmic fashion. Peeta grunted quietly, releasing a shaky moan and bowing his back.

"Cato," he muttered lazily, pushing himself up so he could flip himself over onto his back.

"Right here baby," Cato said quietly with a smirk.

For someone who had never had a sexual experience until the previous June, Peeta certainly knew what he liked: even when he was fast asleep. He bent his knees and bucked his hips up, licking his lips and nuzzling his head back into the pillow. "Ngh, Catooo." He rolled his hips and purred again, which made Cato groan and hit his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"I'm sorry baby but I'm going to have to help you now," he muttered-more to himself than to Peeta. If there was one thing he couldn't ignore: it was when his boyfriend would made that goddamn purring sound. He slid over to him and gently tugged Peeta's pants and underwear down. Peeta, still asleep, whimpered and thrashed his head. Cato shushed him, brushing his hair back. "I promised I'd help if you got too hot for your clothes."

Careful not to wake him, he gently prised Peeta's hand off himself. He hadn't had a chance to show him what a proper blowjob felt and he felt like this was the perfect moment to give it a go. He took him into his mouth, trying his best not to laugh when sleeping Peeta groaned and slid his fingers into his hair to stop him from moving.

"Ngh, Cato?" He sounded more aware of his surroundings now, maybe waking up slightly. Instead of answering, Cato ran his tongue along the underside of his manhood and ran his hands up his thighs, holding him down when he almost bucked up into his throat. "Mmf, what are you doing?"

Cato pushed his hand up underneath his sleep shirt, up his abdamon and chest. One hand left his hair and Peeta grabbed the hand, clinging to him desperately and accidently bumping his knees against Cato's head. "Ahhh Catooo," he purred, the feeling of his boyfriend's cold hand on his torso and his warm mouth around his arousal making him feel so conflicted over what he had woken up to. "I-I was doing it a-a-again wasn't I-I?"

Cato grinned and moved back up his body so their faces were level. They met together for a hot, open mouthed kiss. Peeta grabbed his face desperately, pushing himself up onto his elbows to get more than what he was being given. Cato gladly gave him more, tapping more kisses down his body as slid back down to proceed with what he was doing before. Peeta-still sightly exhausted-lay back and let him continue, threading his hands into Cato's hair and shifting around on the mattress, unable to stay still.

Neither of them aware of the fact that they were being watched.

_**The Capitol**_

Harold wondered when Snow had the time to do this.

Camera in the corner of the room. An actual, functioning camera in the corner of their bedroom that would feed clips back into his television.

Oh god, he was crazy. He missed Peeta a lot, so damn much that he sometimes wondered if his sanity was intact or not. And Snow apparently 'felt' for him-which he believed was a bunch of bullshit-and had had this camera installed into Cato and Peeta's bedroom, still believing that the only reason he liked him was because of his body. Even the President himself didn't understand.

So if he was expected to sit and watch the two of him fuck, that was exactly what he was going to do. If they wanted him to be a pervert, then he was going to be a goddamn pervert. What made him different from Hadley? He wondered this as he sat and watched the career as he watched Peeta touch himself in his sleep. Isn't that perverted as well? Of course, that was different because it was Cato and Cato was some special fucking speciman who the rules didn't apply to.

It was Mya's idea to alter Peeta's dosage of pills so that the sex drive side effect was increased to the point were it was unavoidable. She probably thought she was doing Harold a favour but as he watched her take the perscription of pills, pretending to be Peeta's doctor, and sat and changed his tablets, Harold felt nothing but disgust. He didn't want Peeta to get poisoned with an anti-anxiety version of viagra. That wasn't what he wanted.

He was _not_ a horrid, disgusting pervert.

Yet here he was, watching Cato give his beloved a blowjob from somewhere underneath the bed covers. He coudn't see the career-he thanked the heavens for this-but he could watch Peeta perfectly. His head was thrown back, his chest heaving as he panted for breath, beads of sweat slowly making their way down his neck and along his collarbone. Oh, he was so hot. Even though he _wasn't_ a pervert, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the t.v screen and the writhing body of the boy he loved.

Peeta's new look hadn't changed his mind. The glasses were sexy and the braces made him look very youthful. And the knowledge that his main piority was to finish his education just made Harold love him even more. When given the chance, all victors and their partners never finished their school because they didn't think it was important. And Harold believed it was amazing that what Peeta wanted the most-except for being left alone to live with Hadley in peace-was to finish his education.

He had perferred it before Cato had intervened. When Peeta was working on his own, lying on his stomach and pleasuring himself. The way his hips moved with his movements, up and down, up and down, was so tempting and beautiful that it made Harold want to jump on a train to District 2 and begin Snow's plan early.

But he couldn't do that.

And, just for the record, he wasn't a pervert.

_"Ah, Cato, I-I can't hold o-on much l-l-longer_._"_

Harold quirked an eyebrow at the screen, watching as Hadley brought his boyfriend to the edge. He turned around, not wishing to see anymore, took out the President monagrammed piece of paper from his desk and wrote down the note Snow told him to write. The letter for the lovebirds.

_"You are needed at the Capitol. Come as soon as possible."_

_~H_

_**A/N: Just threw a bit of smut and drama at you in the first chapter there. I already have a good idea of where this fic is going to go, all I have to do is get it all typed out. And I do have my other stories to focus on too, don't forget ^_^**_

_**Follow me on tumblr: : / / hgtmigirlxx . tumblr **_

_**I have an ask me anything so you can go there to ask me anything to do with my stories and fics. I'm on a hiatus though to hide from Catching Fire movie spoilers. Those people who have filmed clips of the movie have ruined it for loads of people but I thank god that I'm not one of them. I haven't watched any of the leaked clips (:**_

_**Or read my other works on wattpad: : / / wattpad user / HungerGamesTMIaddict. I have a couple of Josh Hutcherson fics on here and another story I'm developing with all original characters that I think you guys would like :)**_

_**Please R&R with your thoughts and I'm always up for a chat! ^_^**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Hello friends, how are you all? Here is chapter two of Chafed! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Two

_**District 2**_

"I don't suppose you know why this is happening?"

Enobaria shook her head solemnly, gazing over Brutus' shoulder at the letter in his hand. "I don't," she said. She glanced at Brutus and sighed. "We don't. You aren't supposed to be requested into the Capitol again until the end of the Victory Tour. Although, since it has been sent by Mr Woods it might just be a request for Peeta to go."

That morning a letter had been posted through their door. It had been very official looking, with the Capitol stamp on it and the use of presidental stationary. Upon opening it, Cato discovered one sentence. A single sentence written in neat script.

_"You are needed at the Capitol. Come as soon as possible."_

_~H_

"I don't care if it might just be for him," Cato replied. "If Harold is going to be there, I'm going to be there to."

Enobaria took the letter for Brutus and rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly. The three of them were sitting around her kitchen table, mulling over the meaning of the sudden request to go to the Capitol before the tour. Peeta wasn't there, Cato hadn't told him about the letter yet. Plus, he was in school.

"You need to accept that right now he's very confused," she explained. "Maybe he wants some time alone with Mr Woods, you don't know. I know it's hard, but you need to remember that he's conflicted right now between yourself and Harold. He's had five months with you, maybe he wants to see him again."

No, he doesn't. Cato knew this but couldn't blurt it out. The only people aware of the love triangle being a hoax was himself, his family, Peeta, Harold and President Snow. It was too big a group of people to include his mentors and overall, he didn't regret the decision of explaining the truth to his family over Enobaria and Brutus, even if Beth and Jack didn't believe it.

"I'm not letting him go alone," Cato said slowly, making sure he made himself clear. "I'm not going to stay here while he goes to the Capitol."

"God, you're so stubborn," Brutus said, speaking up for the first time since he had came over. "I swear Hadley, you're going to be the death of me. You're not the center of the kid's attention and anyway, you both have been glued to the hip so much recently to the point that it could be considered unhealthy, maybe this is just what you both need, some time apart to clear your heads. It will also help baguette boy make up his mind over who he wants."

"It's Peeta. Call him Peeta," Cato said through clenched teeth. He was well aware of the fact tha Brutus did not like Peeta, even as an aquaintance. Being the stereotypical career type, he believed that careers should date careers. He dispised the idea of the choosing days in the districts and dispised anyone who attended them from 2. With this being said, he couldn't afford to dispise Cato, especially since he was now a victor so he decided to take his animosty out on Peeta instead.

"How about I ring Mr. Woods and ask him what he means?" Enobaria suggested.

Cato frowned. "Wait, what?"

"I said, how about I ring Harold and ask him what exactly he meant in the letter," Enobaria repeated.

"Hold on, you have had the ability to _call_ this man?" Cato asked. "As in you have his number and everything?"

Enobaria nodded, confused. "Well, yes," she said. "I met him at the party to celebrate the beginning of the Games and we've been quite close ever since. I have his apartment's phone number. We were talking quite recently and he had told me that he had been missing Peeta very much. Maybe he has invited him back to the Capitol so they can spend some time together before the tour?"

"You've been talking to him?" Cato couldn't felt feeling betrayed. Not that it was Enobaria's fault. She didn't know about how much of a horrid man Harold was and was only exchanging pleasantries with him. It wasn't like she knew what he had done to Peeta and was still insisting to be his friend. In fact, the way she was trying to get them together in the Capitol was quite sweet, since she believed they were in love. She was just trying to make them happy, even if the truth of it was twisted.

"I have," she replied. "I'm not on anyone's side with this Cato. All I know is that Peeta is in a bit of a mess right now and I don't have a right to hop on anyone's team other than his. He's a sweet kid, maybe a bit too pure and vulnerable to be falling for a man so much older than him but I don't have a right to judge. Not with the things I've done. So, should I call him or not?"

Cato held her gaze firmly. "Give me the number," he said.

Enobaria quirked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I'll ask him myself," Cato answered.

Brutus scoffed. "I don't think you're on the top of the list of people he's willing to talk to," he said. "Just let Enobaria do it, she knows the guy better."

"No," Cato said instantly, not breaking contact with his mentor. "Give me the number."

"I don't have a problem with giving you his number as long as you promise not to start a fight-"

"Have some sense Enobaria, do you really think he's not going to start a fight?" Brutus interuppted, not caring about common manners. Cato scowled at the man, feeling nothing but loathing towards him.

Enobaria bit her lip, causing a thin sliver of blood to slide down her chin because of the points of her teeth. "I suppose you're right." She stood up, the chair scraping the floor behind her. "I'll make the call Cato, I'd rather you didn't get into any tiffs. I'll let you know later on what his answer is."

"Why can't you just give me the damn number!" Cato exclaimed, standing up as well, his own chair sliding further back than his mentor's had. "I'm not going to start some big fight, I'm just going to ask him what the message means!" He was angry and frustrated at the fact that the months that were supposed to be reserved for himself and Peeta being together alone were being interuppted by Harold and the Capitol.

"Because if you weren't intending to start a fight as you claim then you wouldn't mind me ringing him and asking myself. Since you are so keen to find out what it means, after all. I'm sorry Cato, you know I love you like a son but I can't give you the number. Brutus is right-for once-and I don't want you taking any risks like starting a fight with Harold," Enobaria explained. "Now, I have my nephew's christening to attend so if you don't mind I'm going to take a leave of absence, then I'll make the call. You'll know the answer by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Cato exclaimed.

"Yes, tomorrow. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go. So please leave," Enobaria said. Forever plagued by the things she did in her Games, Enobaria didn't like having any one in her house when she wasn't there. Knowing that the house was empty gave her a sense of security that she desperately needed. Especially in times like this where all the rules were being broken.

Cato left her house very angry. Why couldn't she just give him the damn number? It wasn't like he could actually do any damage if he did get in a fight with Harold anyway, they would only be on the phone with each other. No matter how much he wanted to punch the bastard in the face he couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk the trouble it would cause.

He glanced at his watch. 3:55pm. He had to go and collect Peeta from class. God, where does the time go? It seemed like only yesterday he was signing him up for his classes and now here he was, nearly finishing his second term. It made him worry about how close the Victory Tour was. It seemed cool when he was the one watching winners from his District go through it but now it just seemed like a horrifying event to suffer through, keeping the death fresh for everyone. Ms Morrison was even giving Peeta the time off so he could go on the Victory Tour with him.

On his way to the tutor's house, Cato passed the tribute memorial. It sat in the square, hung on the gate that enclosed the small piece of ground that held the Christmas tree. A golden plague with the Capitol emblem engraved at the top with the name of every single District 2 tribute who ever died in the Games written below it. With the most recent addition:

_Clove Jettison._

Cato clenched his fists as he stopped to look at his best friend's name. A couple of bouquets of flowers still lay below the plague, almost completely buried in the snow. It had been five months and he still couldn't believe she was gone. When he closed his eyes, he could see her lying limp in the grass, her eyes forever locked open. _And when you hear the birds, just let them carry you away. _He could still hear her voice in his head, saying her last words.

He brushed his fingertips over her name, wishing he could have done more to prevent her name having been carved onto the metal. Peeta told him constantly that her death wasn't his fault but there was always going to be a small voice at the back of his head telling him that he was lying, that it was his fault. That he could have stopped it. He could have prevented her from dying. That Peeta was just lying to make him feel better about it all.

Did that make Peeta a liar?

No, he wasn't a liar. Cato shook his head to get the thought out of his head and kissed his fingertips, pressing them against Clove's name. He went through this nearly every day. See the plague, feel guilty, immediately start questioning himself and what Peeta tells him was and wasn't his fault before realizing he's being ridiculous and kissing Clove's memorial.

"Oh god Peeta, I'm going to fall!"

"No, you won't just keep holding on!"

Cato peered around the christmas tree and was surprised to find Peeta standing right beside it with the little girl from his class sitting on his shoulders. She was straining upwards and trying to hook something onto the branches. It was a strange sight since citizens aren't allowed to help decorate the tree. Only Capitol official decorations were allowed.

"I told you this wasn't going to work!" the girl said.

"Yes it is, just hurry up before a peacekeeper catches us," Peeta replied, holding onto the girl as tightly as he could. "Or Ms Morrison realizes we're gone."

Cato rolled his eyes. He was skipping class again. What was the point in him paying for him to go to school if he was either going to not concentrate or skip class? It wasn't that he missed the money-he had plenty of that-it just made him wonder why he had made such a big deal out of wanting to finish his education if he was just going to skip class with his only other classmate?

"Okay, I've got it on," the girl said.

"Make sure it won't fall."

The girl batted whatever she put onto the tree with her hand and nodded. "It won't fall," she said. Peeta quickly turned around and lifted her over the gate, climbing over himself once she was safely on the ground. "Thank you so much for doing that for me."

"It's no problem," Peeta replied. "I can't imagine how much it means to you but from what you told me, it sounded big."

"Yeah, it was really important to me," the little girl confirmed, gazing up at the tree in longing. "I mean, I've never been able to get it up there before. I can't thank you enough."

"You don't have to," Peeta said to her. "I mean, unless Cato or your parents discover that we skipped the last hour of class to get here. Which, if we get back before Cato arrives at the wall outside Ms Morrison's house, we'll be just fine." Cato walked around the gate, listening in on their entire conversation as he went.

"I love that you helped me get that up there," the girl said. "I'll forever be in your debt."

Peeta laughed, also looking up at the ordament. "You don't have to say that, it was really no problem. Seriously, anytime you need me, I'll be there for you. I don't know about you but physics seems to have made Ms Morrison more grumpy."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Yes," she agreed. "Totally and absoloutely. It has aged her and made her more of an old biddy than before."

Cato was now right behind him. Even though Peeta couldn't see him, the girl certainly could. As soon as she spotted him, her face fell. Cato raised his eyebrows at her and she swallowed hard, her eyes flicking to Peeta and willing him to stop talking.

Looking at his watch, Peeta frowned. "We better get back. It's 4:00 and Cato will probably be on his way to Ms Morrison's right now. He's going to kill me if he finds out I've skipped . . . what's that look for? Ava, what's wrong?" Ava quirked an eyebrow and bit her lip, not wanting to say it out loud. It took Peeta about half a second to figure out what was wrong with her and he shut his eyes in horror. "He's right behind me isn't he?"

Ava slowly nodded.

"Damn."

"Anything you care to share?" Cato asked.

"Uh . . . "

Looking past Peeta, he looked at the little girl. "Young . . . Ava, is it?" he asked.

The girl nodded.

"It's getting late, shouldn't you return to your parents before they get worried?"

Ava looked at her feet and fiddled with her fingers. "Um, yeah," she said. "Thanks again Peeta for, um, doing that for me. As I said, I owe you one." She looked at Cato and smiled weakly. "Good seeing you Cato." With that being said, she turned around and walked away, a noticable spring in her step.

Peeta still hadn't turned around yet, he was instead looking up at the tree. Cato also looked at it, trying to locate what it was Ava had hung up on it. "Where is it?" he asked.

"It's the crystal star, there on the fifteenth branch up," Peeta replied.

True to the word, a little crystal star, barely the size of a thumbprint, hung from the fifteenth branch, sparkling in the pre-evening sun. It looked out of place among the capitol approved trinkets and decorations, but in a good way. "Why skip class for that?" Cato asked.

"It belonged to her grandfather," Peeta explained. "He made it himself and always wanted it up on the tree but it was never allowed. He died in August. Ava had made it her duty to get it up there. I just wanted to help. It's what her grandfather wanted . . . I just thought . . . I'd help . . ."

_Why?_ Cato thought. _Why couldn't he have just been skipping class instead of doing something so beautiful and perfect?_

"Couldn't you have waited until after class?" he asked.

"No," Peeta answered. "Because by the time we would have reached here it would have been dark and I wasn't sure whether you'd have been willing to help me climb over the gate and put it up on the tree."

Cato squinted at the star. "What's that? There, in the middle of it. What is that?"

"A mockingjay," Peeta answered. "Her grandfather carved it out of glass himself."

"It's . . . beautiful."

"Isn't it?"

_"Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow."_ Kayla appeared, skipping from the direction of the victor's village, a wide smile on her face as she sang to herself. Peeta frowned and looked around at her, grabbing her arm as she passed to stop her from going any further.

"Where did you hear that song?" he asked her.

Kayla raised her eyebrows. "That Katniss girl sung it to the little girl from 11 before she died. It's been stuck in my head for ages. I can't get rid of it. Hey, that's new. Where did that decoration come from?"

"Sssh!" Cato said, slapping his hand over her mouth. "Don't let the peacekeepers hear you."

"Why? What is it?" Kayla demanded.

Peeta shushed her and whispered, "A very important ordament for a very important girl. But you need to keep silent about it or they'll take it down."

"And very likely have his head for it," Cato added, only half joking.

"What are you? Santa?" Kayla asked. "Granting wishes for little girls?"

Peeta frowned. "Who's Santa?" he asked.

Kayla's eyes widened in horror. "Oh my god you've never heard of Santa! What sort of childhood did you have?!" She hit Cato's arm. "Cato, get a hat and beard, we're doing this thing. Just imagine it Peeta: Christmas Eve, Victor's Village. The whole house is silent apart from the scurrying of mice and the creaking of the floorboards. And then old St. Nick-who looks strangely like Cato in a hat and beard but isn't-comes to visit and gives you a present for being a good little boy this year."

"Little? He's older than you," Cato said.

"Details, details," Kayla said flippantly.

"So hold on, this man breaks into people's homes to give them presents?" Peeta asked. "Isn't that a bit . . . weird?"

"You should hear the 'Santa Claus is coming to town' song. Sounds like the pedophiles' anthem," Kayla replied. "Still, the star is lovely. Just hope the authorities don't see it. Or if they do, don't find out that you helped get it up there." They were now walking back in the direction of the Victor's Village, Kayla explaining that the only reason she was coming into town was to look for them. "Weren't you supposed to be in class? I mean, if you were helping the little girl put the decoration up, that would take at least ten minutes. It's only 4:05."

"He skipped class," Cato answered.

Kayla gasped dramatically and cupped her hands over her mouth. "Oh dear, well I fear Santa might not be coming to you after all," she said.

"Somehow I believe I'll survive," Peeta replied. "I mean, a guy looking like Cato in a hat and beard? Doesn't sound like I'll be missing much. I hate beards."

"I'll be sure not to grow one then," Cato said. "But seriously, what was the point of me buying you a tutor if you're going to skip class or not concentrate?"

"It was only this once, I swear. I was just doing it for Ava and her grandfather," Peeta insisted. "I promise it will never happen again. I'll pay more attention and get the best grades I can in the exams at the end of the year."

Kayla made a noise at the back of her throat. "I don't even know why you bother going to school. If I had a choice, I would make dust of my education. Why bother with something you don't need later in life? I mean, where are the laws of physics going to come in day to day life?"

"Thank you! Tell your big brother that," Peeta said.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted the classes," Cato pointed out.

"I know, I know," Peeta replied, rolling his eyes. "I do want to finish my education, I really do. Just not physics rubbish, you know?"

They stopped outside Cato and Kayla's parents victor house and said their goodbyes. Once she disappeared into the house, they set off on the five minute walk to their own house. "I could think of a couple of ways physics comes into day to day life," Cato pointed out as they walked.

Peeta-who had been brushing snow off his coat-frowned. "Oh? How?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe when you find yourself helpless on a dining room table at the mercy of your boyfriend who won't give you what you need unless you tell them the principal of relativity," Cato replied.

"Well, I think that's an acception," Peeta said indignantly.

"And the second postulate," Cato reminded him.

Peeta blew a raspberry and rubbed his cold hands together. "That only happened once. Just yesterday," he said. "Doesn't count."

"Do you want it to happen again?" Cato asked, raising his eyebrows as they stopped on his doorstep.

"Best not," Peeta said. They went into the house and immediately went up the stairs to their bedroom. They had to take their pills again. "If it makes you feel any better, I do have homework I have to do," he said as he swallowed his tablets. "Maths, tragically." He thew his satchel onto the bed and pulled out his trig textbook.

As he watched him sit down and balance the book on his knee, Cato became suddenly aware of the note from Harold in his back pocket. Of the fact that, whether he was allowed to come with him or not, Peeta had to go back to the Capitol. And soon. God, couldn't they ever just leave them alone? Leave _him_ alone?

"Need help?" he asked.

"Nah, I've got this," Peeta replied, biting the end of his pencil as he thought something over. "Maths isn't too bad." He quickly scribbled something down onto the page of his book and grinned. "See? Done."

"Already?" Cato exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was just one question," Peeta explained, packing his books away. He pushed his satchel off the edge of the bed and sighed, leaning back against the headboard. He looked at Cato and frowned. "Are you okay? You look on edge."

"I'm fine," Cato replied, sitting down beside him. Peeta watched his every move curiously, always able to spot when he's lying.

"No, you're not. What's wrong?"

"Honestly, it's nothing."

Peeta frowned and scooted closer to him. "You're lying. I can tell when you're lying, you know. You can never look me in the eye," he said. "So come on, fess up. What's wrong? Is it because I skipped class today? Because you have to know I was only doing that for Ava."

"I know," Cato said. "It's not that. What you did for her was wonderful, there was nothing wrong with that." Okay, if he couldn't look him in the eye when he was lying then that was the very thing he'd have to do. Turning around, he looked Peeta in the eyes and said again, "I promise, there's nothing wrong."

Peeta sighed and bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "Okay," he conceeded. "If you say so." He pushed up onto his knees and kissed him, letting his lips linger for a moment. "You'd tell me if there was something wrong, right?" he murmered against his mouth. Cato didn't answer, instead he just kissed him back. Peeta pulled away from him and blinked, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're not just saying that to protect me?"

"I'm not," Cato promised. He hated lying, especially to Peeta, but sometimes it was nessecary. Especially where it involved Harold or the Capitol.

Peeta leaned forward again and kissed him, settling himself into his lap and tapping the kisses further down until he reached his neck. Cato sighed, his hand curling into his hair, and closed his eyes for a moment, just basking in the feeling of his boyfriend's mouth on his skin.

It wasn't often Peeta got confident. And when he did it was normally because he was worried about him. On their first week in District 2, when Clove's name was carved into the Tribute Memorial, Cato had been so down that Peeta got so worried that he topped for the first time during sex. Granted, it was awkward and they both agreed afterwards that they perferred it the other way, but it was still amazing sex none the less. But it also helped Cato realize that any time Peeta tried to take the lead in something, it meant that he was worried about him for some reason.

Which also meant that he mustn't believe him when he said that he wasn't lying to him.

"You're worried about me," Cato stated as if obvious.

"You're lying to me," Peeta murmered back, not even pausing his ministrations on his neck. It made it very difficult to concentrate but Cato didn't mind, it felt amazing.

"Am not."

Peeta ran his hands up his chest and cupped his face. "You can tell me," he said, pressing their foreheads together. "Is it to do with Clove?"

Cato shook his head, glad to finally be able to tell the truth about something. "No," he said.

"Your family?"

"No."

"The Victory Tour?"

"No."

_"Cato."_

"What?"

"Tell me!"

"There's nothing to tell!" Cato insisted. He put his hands ontop of Peeta's and took them away from his face. "I promise you there's nothing wrong." He wasn't going to tell him anything to do with the letter from Harold until Enobaria contacted him with the answer to whether he could come with him to the Capitol or not.

Peeta didn't look convinced. He sat back and eyed him skeptically. Cato really did hate lying to him, he even considered telling him a couple of times, but everytime he did, all he would see were those damn scars around his ankles and the bruises on his wrists and hips that were only starting to heal up now. And he couldn't. How could he? With all the things Harold Woods has done to him in the past?

"Come here," he said, winding his arms around Peeta's waist and pulling him back to him. "If there was something wrong, I would tell you."

Peeta sighed. "I know," he said.

Cato smiled and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, as if it was enough to make up for the lies he was telling him. Peeta melted into him, curling his hands into fists and resting them on his chest. Those damn tablets working on him again, he groaned and pulled away. "How long until your parents come around for tea?" he asked apprehensively.

Cato shrugged. "Couple of hours," he answered.

"Good, because I've got a problem I need to sort out," Peeta said, heat flushing to his cheeks. He went to climb out of Cato's arms and yelped when he wasn't allowed to, instead being pulled back to sit in his lap with his back against Cato's front.

"You mean . . . this?" Cato asked teasingly, ghosting his fingers along the bulge in his pants. Peeta nodded sheepishly, squirming in his lover's embrace. "God, those tablets really do a number on you don't they? Must be too much for wittle Peeta's system to handle."

"Are you mocking me?" Peeta asked.

"What? Me? No, wouldn't dream of it," Cato replied sarcastically, kissing his cheek. He flicked open the button of his boyfriend's pants, undoing the zipper and pushing them down to his knees, where Peeta then kicked them off. He brushed his hand along the scar on his thigh, chuckling softly when Peeta groaned and twisted his head away, not wanting to look at it.

His hand had just disappeared under his underwear when Peeta froze. Immediately thinking something was wrong, Cato froze too. "Baby, what is it?" he asked.

"Up there," Peeta whispered.

"Where?" Cato asked.

Peeta pointed up to the top left corner of the room. "There," he said quietly. "There's a camera."

Cato squinted, unable to see it at first. Then, as if suddenly jumping out of nowhere, the camera came into view, perched on the ceiling and disguised to look like one of the lights. Quickly retracting his hand, Cato slowly stood up. "Get under the quilt, cover yourself up," he told Peeta gently. Immediately doing what he was told, Peeta almost dived under the covers to cover himself and his dignity up. Cato grabbed the glass cane off the floor and used it to poke at the camera. It took a couple of hits for it to finally come loose and fall down, landing perfectly in his hands. It was District 3 technology, therefore must have came from the Capitol.

"Is it a camera?" Peeta asked, poking his head out from under the bedcovers.

"They've been watching us," Cato said. "The entire time someone has been watching us."

Peeta swallowed nervously. "The whole time?" he asked.

Cato nodded gravely. "The whole time."

~xXx~

_**Half an hour later**_

"Clove showed me how to hook these cameras up to televisions before we went into the Games," Cato explained as he stuck the cable into the camera and connected it to the Capitol telly in their living room. "That was how I knew that you had to do something big at the tribute party."

Peeta nodded along as he spoke, sitting curled up on the sofa, swathed in a blanket. He was slightly traumatized, all the colour having drained from his face at the realization that someone had been watching them in their bedroom ever since they came back from the Capitol.

"So, if I remember this right-to see what's on here-all I have to do is press . . . this!" Cato pressed a button on the camera and the t.v fizzled to life, immediately showing a recording of their bedroom. The footage started at the first night they ever spent in the Victor's house, which was very uneventful to say the least. They had both been very exhausted from seeing everyone again and had basically just passed out cold on the bed.

"If they've recorded everything," Peeta mumbled, his eyebrows screwed up in concentration. "Then that means . . ." Eyes widening in horror, he snatched the remote off Cato and fast forwarded to the second week in the house.

Cato watched to see what it was he was worried about. Peeta (footage Peeta, not real Peeta) sat on the edge of the bed, popping open his Monday window in his pill holder and swallowing them all, including the sleeping tablet. He climbed into bed almost instantly, completely spent, and fell alseep.

Fast forwarding a little bit, Peeta stopped when he saw himself turning over onto his stomach on the bed. "Oh no," he said, his hand slapping over his eyes. "Oh God please no."

"Why? What is it . . . oh wait, I see." They'd seen Peeta go through his case of sleep masturbation. Feeling sorry for him, Cato sat down beside him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "It's okay, I'm sure they didn't even focus on that too much."

"What? At the fact that I'm practically humping myself against the damn bed while moaning at you-who's not even in the room-to not stop!" Peeta exclaimed, pulling away from him in an enraged huff. "I'm sure they didn't get some sort of laugh out of that!" Cato sighed and shook his head, at a loss for what to say. "Hold on, you are there!" Peeta sat forward and squinted at the screen, only barely able to make out Cato standing there in the doorway, only just having walked in.

"Oh would you look at the time, my parents will be here any minute now," Cato said, moving towards the remote. Peeta swiped the remote off the coffee table with the butt of his cane and turned around on Cato with a glare that could stop a clock.

"You told me that I'd finished by the time you came in," he said in a low voice.

"Well, I may have altered the truth a _little_ bit on that-"

"Cato, you're standing there watching me!"

"What? Don't take it like it's a bad thing!" Cato said.

Peeta shut his eyes and rapped his knuckles against his forehead, growling in frustration. "There's something in that," he muttered. "Something in the whole idea of someone watching me do . . . _that_. Something Harold did? Maybe it was Mya . . . I don't even know . . . I can't remember enough to even bother clicking my fingers . . ."

Hearing Harold's name being spoken, the note in Cato's back pocket seemed to almost burn. Ignoring it, he inched closer and re-wrapped his arm around him. "It's okay," he said. "I won't do it again, I promise. And the camera's down now so they can't see you either."

"Who do you think it was?" Peeta whispered against his chest. "Who do you think it was watching us?"

"I don't know," Cato said. "But I have a pretty good idea."

_**A/N: We all know who it was, don't we? **_

_**On a different note: Has anyone seen Catching Fire yet? I have! I promise I won't give anything away though if you guys haven't seen it! ^_^**_

_**Hehe lol, please R&R with your thoughts (On the chapter or Catching Fire, whichever)! :D**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Hey guys, thanks for all your wonderful reviews! Here's chapter three, I hope you like it!**_

_**Side note: Cato's quotes are from Goodreads :)**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Three

Peeta sat on the couch, watching every second of the footage on the camera. He hadn't realized how much that himself and Cato had gotten intimate so often and couldn't help feeling violated at the thought of someone over in the Capitol watching the exact same footage. Cato had told him to try not to think about it but surely he was aware of how difficult that would be?

A memory had resurfaced in his mind since he had watched his second week on the camera. It was vague, he still couldn't get it clear in his head. But it was something to do with someone watching him do . . . that thing that he did on the increased dosage of tablets, and doing it for their own pleasure rather than their own curiousity. It unnerved him because he couldn't place where it was from, when it had happened or why, but he was almost completely sure that it was something to do with Mya or Harold.

"You okay?" Cato asked as he passed the couch. He was carrying a big cardboard box that had _**C.D **_scrawled across it in black marker.

"Hmm?" Peeta hummed as he broke his trance from the t.v and looked at him. "Oh, yeah."

"You've got to stop watching that," the career said as he set the box down on the armchair. "It can't be good for you."

Peeta shrugged. "Nothing's happening," he said. True to the word, there was nothing happening on the screen. Their bed sat in the middle of the lens' eyeline, completely empty. There was no sign of himself or Cato so he assumed it was during the day, when he was at school and Cato was out doing . . . whatever he did during the day while he was at school. It had been like that for about an hour now and it was nice to have some reassurance that they didn't spend all their time together having sex.

"Then why don't you turn it off and come and help me set up our tree?" Cato suggested.

"There's trees for individual households as well?" Peeta asked. "It's not just for the square?"

"Not at all," Cato replied. "You see, everyone has their own unique set of decorations. Bits and pieces they've collected over the years. Including trees."

"I see," Peeta said.

"I've had to call in an old friend of mine because I've never been able to set it up properly," Cato explained. "There's all these bits and pieces and compartments and holes and stuff. It's so complicated just for a four foot tree."

"Four foot? That's like an entire foot shorter than me," Peeta said. He stood up and switched the t.v off. "I thought you said the trees were . . . big, right?"

Cato laughed. "Well, I really meant the Capitol tree out in the square. The size of the trees owned by the citizens vary. Mine being a four foot tree. My parents and Kayla's tree is a bit bigger. About 5'7." He placed his hand on Peeta's head and moved it away in a straight line, pursing his lips. "It's around the same height as you, actually. Anyway, as I was saying, a good friend of mine is coming around to help me set this thing up. He's a good guy, you'll like him."

"I was beginning to wonder if you had any friends," Peeta replied. "Since it's been five months and I haven't met anyone you used to know before the Games. I thought you were maybe a recluse or something, you know, with no friends."

"I can assure you that I am not, or ever was, a recluse," Cato assured. "I have many friends, just not many of them have been around lately. I've been meaning to arrange a night out or something like that so that we can catch up but I just haven't had the time."

"So, who are they?" Peeta asked.

"Um, Warren. I used to go to school with him. We used to hang out a lot before the reaping. It was his sister's reaping party we went to that night I got drunk," Cato explained.

"So you admit that you _were_ drunk!" Peeta grinned. "Took you long enough."

Cato smirked and swatted his arm, making Peeta laugh. "Don't get an attitude with me," he said. After he spoke, there was a knock on the door. Cato went to get it and Peeta opened the box while he was gone. Inside was an array of tinsel and trinkets, little stars, baubles, mini-stockings, ballerinas, there seemed to be everything. "Oh god, what are you doing here?"

"Warren couldn't make it, called me to come to help you guys with your tree," someone said from the hall. "So, where's this famous boyfriend of yours?"

"You better behave," Cato warned. "Or I'm putting the tree up myself." They both came through into the living room and Peeta turned around, a small ordament made to look like a silk santa sack full of presents in his hands. Beside Cato was a guy with scruffy black hair, who looked around the same age as Cato. "Change of plan Peeta, this is Daniel. He's . . . uh . . . an aquaintance."

"An aquaintance?" Daniel scoffed. He looked at Peeta and raised his eyebrows. "I'm his ex."

An ex . . . It took a moment for the words to sink in. As in this guy had been Cato's boyfriend at one point? Peeta resisted the urge to frown. Jealousy bubbled to the surface like calcium in water but he supressed it. He had no reason to envy this guy he'd never met before because _he_ was with Cato now. They weren't just boyfriends, they were _partners._ That meant more, right?

Daniel stepped forward and took his hand, leaning down and pressing a kiss against it. "_Au chante_, Peeta."

Peeta's eyes widened in surprise and he blushed. "Nice to meet you Daniel."

Cato scowled and bumped Daniel as he passed him, hard enough so that he had to let go of his hand. "Shimmer down mademoiselle," he said sourly.

"Uh-oh, I've struck a nerve," Daniel replied.

"Just help me get this tree up."

"Whatever you say. You're the boss." He winked at Peeta, grinning when he averted his eyes away, blushing furiously. "I thought you, of all people, would know how to put a tree together. I mean, you can't run to Warren every time you need a tree put together. Is this how you guys spend your time? Putting trees up? God, that's lame."

"Oh wow Daniel, that's just great! Too bad I don't give a damn about your opinion on the matter," Cato replied. He opened one of the other boxes and pulled out some tree parts. Daniel took them from him and got to work setting up the stand. Peeta looked at his hand with a curious frown, half expecting to see a mark where he had kissed him. Of course, nothing was there but the gesture had startled him.

"So," he said, "when did you guys go out?"

"Last year," Daniel answered. "Well, I say last year, that's when we broke up. We'd actually been dating since the previous year. Apprently, he just wasn't ready for a-and I quote-'serious relationship.'" Cato rolled his eyes and threw a bauble at his head, letting it bounce off his skull and roll across the floor.

Peeta picked up a piece of tinsel and examined the colours, wondering if he would be able to paint it later. Trying to be casual, he asked, "So how did you two meet?" Cato turned and quirked an eyebrow at him, his eyes asking him _"what's with the curiousity?"_ Peeta looked away, fiddling with the tinsel and trying not to look at him.

"I used to wash his friend Clove's grandmother's windows," Daniel explained. "She was actually the woman who set us up. She was a lovely woman, god rest herself and Clove's souls. Interferring was something she loved to do, constantly prying into people's business to try and change it for the better. I suppose we have her to thank for having such a wonderful relationship, right?"

"Yeah," Cato replied. He didn't seem to mind talking about their old relationship so much but he was wondering why Peeta was so curious about it all.

"I'd ask you how you met but the whole of Panem know how you guys met," Daniel said as he slid another part of the tree into place. "Choosing ceremony, right?"

Peeta nodded.

"Bit young, Cato," Daniel commented. "Good for you."

"There's only two years between us!" Peeta protested, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "I'm not _that_ much younger!" He thought about Harold, who was twenty six years old. Ten years older than him. He was ten years younger than him. This fact had started to make him irritated about his age, not liking it when people treated him like a child just because he wasn't legal age for anything yet.

"Hey, I wasn't saying there was anything wrong with it," Daniel said. "I've dated many a youngster before in my lifetime."

"Don't need to hear about your relationship history Dan," Cato muttered.

Daniel chuckled. "Dan," he mused. "You're the only person who's ever called me that." There was a silence where they just looked at each other, some sort of telepathic conversation going on between their eyes. Peeta felt like a third wheel and coughed to snatch their attention off each other.

"So you speak french too?" he asked weakly, trying to change the subject quickly.

"Nah," Daniel said. "I only know a couple of phrases. It's how I charm the pants off people in clubs." Cato snorted and Daniel raised his eyebrows at him. "Hey, it worked on you, didn't it?"

"I actually thought it made you a bit of a douche," Cato replied. "But I promised mam-gu I'd give you a chance so I went along with it. I mean, _bonjour, je pense quevous êtes chaud_? Really"

"Yeah," Daniel replied. "Really."

Peeta frowned. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"Doesn't matter, don't worry about it."

This caused him to do nothing but worry about it.

Daniel took about an hour to set up the tree and then stuck around to help them decorate it. The hostility that Cato had held towards him when he had first arrived had long since dissapated by the time he was leaving, both them having relived many stories and anecdotes that made them laugh and left Peeta standing with a confused frown on his face.

"I'd better get going," Daniel said after about two hours of decorating, standing up and brushing the gitter off his pants. Peeta glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he stood by the tree, playing with the tinsel again. He was fascinated by the stuff and the sparkling colours clashing together. He couldn't wait to get to his easel later to try to mimick it onto his canvas. He jumped when Daniel kissed his cheek, leaving a burning sensation behind. "_Adieu jolie,"_ he said.

Peeta opened his mouth to ask what that meant but didn't get a chance to as Daniel just winked at him, turned on his heel and walked out. Cato went to see him out, leaving him alone in the living room. Daniel seemed nice . . . ish. No, he was nice, he was just being spiteful. Peeta scowled at the christmas tree. Was he being unfair? Daniel was a decent guy. He was funny, helpful, cheerful . . . then why did the guy irritate him so much? Constantly while he was helping them, he had felt the urge to remind him that he was Cato's boyfriend now, not him, which was ridiculous because they weren't interested in each other anymore.

"What does _adieu jolie_ mean?" he asked when Cato came back into the room.

"Goodbye pretty one," Cato answered. "He's so pretentious. I can't believe he still tries to charm people with french."

"Why? What's your pick up strategy?" Peeta asked, still looking at the tree.

"I don't use different languages to enamor my targeted partner for the night with words of a different class instead of simple statements," Cato answered.

"Oh? Like how?"

"Oh, you know, words from wise men about beauty and such," Cato explained. "I always save the good stuff for the people I'm really serious about."

Peeta scoffed. "Did you do that with Daniel then?" he asked. There was a long pause before Cato answered.

"I may have quoted a couple of phrases I've read in books to him before," he said. "About being 'the one' and all that rubbish."

Peeta scowled and almost tugged the tinsel off the branch. "You've never done it for me," he said quietly. He was never the jealous type, but then again there had never been anything before in his life worth being jealous over. Until he met Cato. He still hadn't pictured himself as the envious sort of person. He knew Cato read a lot and could quote a novel's worth of words to him but he never did.

"Do you want me to?" Cato asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I didn't think you'd be into that sort of thing. There's been many a time where I've wanted to tell you the line that I have had saved for you but then I figured that you'd think that I was just trying to get into your pants."

"I suppose," Peeta murmured. "Why? What was it you'd say?"

Cato's arms slipped around his waist and pulled him back against him. Peeta kept a hard expression on his face, playing the tinsel between his fingers. "You are beautiful like demolition," Cato murmered, pressing his forehead against his temple so that his lips brushed his ear as he spoke. "Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don't need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours. The nights belong to us. Everything we do is secret."

Peeta looked at his feet, his eyebrows screwing together in confusion. Cato winded their fingers together and kissed his cheek.

"Nothing we do will ever be understood; we will be feared and kept well away from. It will be the stuff of legend, endless discussion and limitless inspiration for the brave of heart. It's you and me in this room, on this floor. Beyond life, beyond morality. We are gleaming animals painted in moonlit sweat glow. Our eyes turn to jewels and everything we do is an example of spontaneous perfection."

"Cato-"

"Sssh, let me finish." Cato stroked the top of his hand with his thumb, knowing that it always calmed him down, before continuing. "I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. The time I annihilated while I waited like a man doing a life sentence. Now you're here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know."

Peeta was on the brink of tears, staring at the ground and trying to ward it off. No one had ever said such things to him before and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. It was too nice, too brilliant, too perfect, too amazing. After living a life in the dark, of cruel and harsh comments, sometimes the sudden onslot of kindness can be overwhelming. Like sitting in the dark and having a torch shone in your eyes. "Cato-"

"I can also think of something else to say," Cato said. "What sort of love is permeated by jealousy? You are jealous because you are unaware that everything you need is inside you."

"Uh . . ."

"You were jealous of Daniel weren't you?"

"What? No," Peeta said.

"You are such a bad liar," Cato teased.

"Am not!"

"Oh come on babe, it's cute. Everyone gets jealous, it's human nature. Like when Kayla handed me a copy of that magazine with the spread on yourself and Harold in it. Yes, I'll admit, I was jealous. I'm jealous of every minute you spend with him, of every concerned expression you send his way, of every tear shed, of every glance, every touch, and every thought. I want to rip him to pieces and purge him from your mind and from your heart. But I can't."

"That doesn't sound like yours either," Peeta said. "Do you ever have an original thought of your own?"

"I'm not very good with words," Cato explained. "So why not use other people's to describe how I feel? Especially when some of the stuff I've read is deadly accurate."

"At least you know some stuff to say. I might as well be an avox with how well I can communitcate with you about that sort of thing," Peeta muttered. "I can say I love you but that's about it. I can't remember things I've read or heard the way you do. And with the things you sometimes come out with I feel guilty that I can't say anything worth remembering back."

"Saying I love you is enough," Cato replied. "You really did look pissed off with me though when Daniel left. I knew why-you made it pretty obvious-and I couldn't help thinking, 'damn it, he looks hot when he's angry.'"

"Pff," Peeta scoffed. "God, what you find attractive goes right over my head."

"You looked beautiful standing there spitting at me like a cat. All I have to do is look at you, and I lust. I'm going to take you back to the hotel and take off your delectable clothes and make love to you until you don't have the energy to be mad at me anymore." Cato pulled Peeta closer to him, feeling horrible for having hurt him so much because of Daniel being around.

"That's not yours either, is it?"

"Nope."

Peeta turned around in his arms and rested his head on his chest. "The thing with Daniel is not your fault," he said. "It's mine. I'm being an idiot. It's just because everything that's been happening with Harold and stuff, I just didn't want someone coming along and taking you away from me. I mean, you were serious with Daniel, right? And he's a great guy who doesn't have the baggage that I do or isn't as much trouble as me."

"I went to that Choosing Cermony for a reason," Cato said. He lifted his hand and rested it ontop of Peeta's head, gently stroking back and forth in the way he knew he liked. "I didn't want Daniel, or any of my other exes, or anyone I've had a fling with, I wanted someone who I could start a proper relationship with. Now, I never expected to find someone as blindingly perfect as you, never expected to find someone I'd fall in love with or want to spend the rest of my life with but I found you, I'll admit that. And I don't intend to go back to anyone. Which includes picking up a bag and helping you carry it."

Touched, Peeta smiled. "I know but Daniel . . . he's attractive," he mumbled.

Cato laughed. "He doesn't hold a candle to you," he said. "It would take more than a thousand Daniels to make up one of you."

"And you do know that you have no reason to be jealous of Harold, right?" Peeta asked. "We have nothing to do with each other, even if he does love me. I know it's horrible but I don't love him back. I know you know this but sometimes I wonder if you question it . . . I only have eyes for you, Cato."

"I know baby," Cato said. Peeta smiled and pushed up on his tiptoes to kiss him. It started off slow and tender, but then grew into something more feral and animalistic. Where oxygen wasn't the main piority and wasn't as nessecary as it should be. Peeta closed his eyes and groaned, submissive as always to Cato's dominant side. He wrapped his arms around his waist and frowned when he heard a crinkle.

"What's this?" He put his hand into his backpocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

"It's nothing," Cato said hastily, trying to take the paper off him. Peeta stepped back and held it out of his reach.

"'You are needed in the Capitol, come as soon as possible ~H,'" he read. He looked at Cato with a frown. "Is-is-is this from Harold?" Cato didn't even need to answer, the look in his eyes was enough. His heart sank and he felt himself begin to tremble at the meer thought of having to go back there, for _Harold._ "You kept this from me?"

"I didn't keep it from you," Cato said. "I _was_ going to tell you once-Peeta, you don't look so good."

"I'm going to be sick," Peeta replied. He hadn't expected this. He thought he was going to have until the end of Cato's victory tour before he had to face the Capitol and Harold again but now . . . no, he couldn't do it yet. He wasn't ready for it. He grabbed Cato's arm as he took a dizzy spell.

"Here, sit down." Cato helped him sit down and rubbed his back while he leaned forward and tried not to heave. This was one of the signs of his panic attacks. "You're okay. Nothing's happening yet. You're fine, you're here with me. Harold is over in the Capitol and we're in 2. He's far away from you."

Peeta felt himself shaking and he cursed himself for getting so worked up so quickly. The only thing keeping him from actually going full blown panicking was the feeling Cato's hand rubbing his back. "Cato, I'm scared," he found himself admitting.

"Sssh, it's okay. I'm going to come with you," Cato said. "I'm not going to let you go alone. Don't be scared, I'm gonna look after you." He didn't care what Enobaria came back and told him anymore. He was going to the Capitol with Peeta and nothing and no one was going to stop him.

_**A/N: More OC's, I know, but I think it's nessecary since I'm writing about them living in a district that wasn't really mentioned that much in the original Hunger Games trilogy.**_

_**And Peeta's turning green with envy, I think it was only a matter of time. Since Cato does have a dating history, after all (:**_

_**Please R&R with your thoughts! **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Four

_**Capitol Train**_

_**A week later**_

Cato sat on the bed, staring mindlessly into space. Peeta was lying asleep beside him, not having slept well at all the previous night. Cato kept a hand on his back, ready to rub again if he whimpered in his sleep. The nightmares had gotten worse ever since he had found the note, all ranging from Mya to Harold to President Snow. There was nothing on his mind, nor was there anything in particular to think about. He just wanted to sit on guard while his partner slept, feeling like he had to protect him when he was so vulnerable.

The muscles in his back were bunched up and tense. He remembered reading somewhere that that signalled stress. Cato was stressed as well but he guessed it wasn't nearly half of what Peeta was going through. It was one thing to stand by him while he went through his own living hell but being a part of it himself was something a lot worse. He wished he knew a way to get rid of all of his worries but he couldn't. There was nothing he could do but stand by him which, in his opinion, wasn't really enough.

"Cato?"

Cato was surprised that Peeta had woken up, having thought that had still been sound asleep. His back was still rising and falling calmly like he was asleep but when he looked at him, his eyes were open. "You okay, babe?" he asked.

Peeta nodded. He shut his eyes again and sighed. "Why did you lie to me?" he asked back, his voice rough with sleep.

"About the note? I told you, I was trying to protect-"

"No, not that," Peeta said. "I mean, why did you lie to me about why you went to the Choosing Ceremony?"

Cato frowned. "I didn't lie. I told you I went to 12 looking for a serious relationship because I was finally ready to settle down with someone."

"That's not what you said the first time you explained it," Peeta responded. "You told me that you were just looking for someone to have sex with and then that changed when you met me. Which is the true one?" Cato inwardly cursed, closing his eyes and exhaling. He rubbed his back again and tried to think on his feet. "I mean, if you were going to lie, wouldn't you have lied about something nicer to make me feel better before later telling me the turth which would be worse than the nicer thing that you told me?"

Cato had hoped they wouldn't have to have this conversation until the far future. Maybe ten years from now when Peeta no longer had the freedom to decide to leave him. Because he had lied. To protect him. It wasn't out of spite or malice. It was out of necessity. It was the tiniest of the blips but it was a major blip. A blip he hadn't wanted to share until he was maybe sixty . . . or eighty. Or on his death bed.

"So I was just wondering, why did you lie to me?" Peeta asked. He didn't look like he was waiting on any big answer, lying with his face smushed against the pillow the way he did nearly every night. "Or which one was the truth?"

Cato sighed. "Neither," he answered.

Peeta frowned. "What?"

Shifting so he lay on his side facing him, Cato settled down on the bed and brushed a stray strand of hair out of his boyfriend's face. "I said neither. I went to the choosing ceremony for a reason I didn't want to really tell you. Especially after I found out what Mya had done to you. Since you'd helped me change I didn't really want you to know."

Peeta cracked his eye open. He looked worried. "What was the true reason then?"

"My Uncle Mario was the man who gave us the money for the train to District 12. He was willing to pay because he knew what we were going there for," Cato began to explain.

"You were going to claim a partner as a congratulations gift, right?" Peeta asked.

Cato winced. "Not quite."

"Cato, what do you mean?" Peeta was definitely awake now, both eyes wide open and voice devoid of the tired scratch it previously consisted. He pushed himself up to sit beside him. "What are you trying to say?"

Deciding that he had to get him into the best position possible before telling him the truth, Cato took his hand and pulled him into his lap. Peeta let him, slightly cautious, and didn't question it when he tugged his shirt up over his head. His eyes rolled behind his head when Cato started rubbing his shoulders, releasing a small moan. "You've been really stressed recently. I don't know if you could handle it."

"Tell me," Peeta insisted. He knew Cato was trying to turn him into mush under his hands to soften the blow of what he had to say-and he was finding to very difficult not to turn into mush-but he fought not to let him anyways.

"Because it's my uncle Mario's money that my father used to pay for you . . . and the only reason he did that was because we weren't going to claim a partner," Cato explained. "We were going to claim a . . . a . . ." He steeled himself and exhaled again, trying not to let it all go at once.

"Okay, ow, you're holding on a bit tight there," Peeta yelped. Cato loosened his grip and he sighed. "Look, please tell me. Where we're heading, I don't want there to be any secrets between us. Please, it can't be that bad."

"You were supposed to be a practice tribute," Cato answered.

"A what now?"

"A practice tribute. Sometimes a career family would buy a practice tribute because . . . well . . . the dummies aren't always realistic. I was supposed to go to 12, pick a boy and take him back to 2. I was allowed to fuck you maybe, but only a couple of times before I'd have to . . . use you . . ." Feeling sick, Cato slipped his arms around his waist and slid his arms up his chest, pulling him close to him. Peeta squirmed in discomfort, trying not to show how nervous he was about where this was heading.

"What does use me mean?" he asked.

"I was supposed to kill you. Discover what it was really like to spill blood, to kill something, to watch the life drain out of their eyes," Cato explained. "I couldn't do it though. Not after I heard you scream in your sleep that first night. Not after I walked around the District with you and Kayla, saw you smile, heard you laugh. I couldn't kill you."

There was a thick silence and Cato waited for Peeta to digest what he told him. Not all careers had practice tributes. They weren't nessecary but Uncle Mario had insisted that Cato got one the year he was going to be reaped. He was supposed to pick someone who he'd be okay with killing but instead he had picked Peeta. Because he was beautiful and he couldn't help himself. The whole virgin idea was because apparently sacrificing the purity of a virgin was a whole lot more worthwhile than that of someone who wasn't one.

When Peeta tried to pull away from him, he didn't let him. Cato panicked and tightened his arms around him, not letting him go. "Cato, let me go," Peeta said, his voice wobbling.

"No, I can't," Cato said. "If I let go, you're going to leave."

"What do you expect? You were going to kill me Cato!"

"No, I wasn't," Cato insisted. "I wasn't going to kill you. I couldn't kill you, I couldn't, you were too perfect, I just couldn't do it." He kissed the nape of his neck and tried to block out his struggles to get out of his arms. This was going to happen, he knew he couldn't expect him not to freak out at least a little bit, but he wasn't letting him go.

"You chose me, knowing you were going to have to kill me!" Peeta yelled. Five months together and Cato had never thought to mention this?! "Cato, let me go. Let me go, _now_. I can't be around you right now, please just, Cato, _let go!_"

"No," Cato mumbled, sliding his lips along his bare shoulders and kissing his pale skin. "I'm not letting you go over some stupid decision my uncle made for me. That's why I lied to you, because I didn't want you to know the truth. I got jumbled up with the reasons I was telling you about the ceremony. Just please stop struggling." Something wet splashed against his arm. His stomach churned and he rubbed his chest comfortingly. "Please stop crying," he murmured. "You don't have to cry, please."

"You were going to kill me!" Peeta sobbed. "You picked me to maybe screw me a couple of times and then kill me! You're no better than Harold!"

"You don't mean that, you're just worked up."

Peeta cried harder. "Why can't things just go easily for once! You should have just told me! You shouldn't have lead me on! Do you even love me Cato? Do you? Or are you just doing this because you couldn't kill the sad virgin from 12? I bet you don't even love-" Cato took his chin and turned his head so he could reach his lips. Tears wet his cheeks when he kissed him, making the sadness inside him spread like a wildfire. Peeta pushed his hands against his chest, trying to get away from him but Cato didn't give, grabbing the hair at the back of his head to secure him.

And that's when he slapped him.

"Get off me!" Peeta snapped. He scrambled away from Cato as he sat there, stunned at having been slapped. The disgust on Peeta's face broke his heart as he left the room and marched away down the corridor. Cato sat there for a good five minutes, holding his stinging cheek, slightly dumbstruck. Damn it, couldn't he get anything right?

"Peeta!" he yelled after him, finally snapping out of his daze. He leaped off the bed and ran after him, searching around the train for where he went. "Peeta! Where'd you go?!" A smash rang out from down the hall and he immediately followed it out into the living area. Peeta had smashed a vase and was now sitting curled up on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, barely moving. "I kind of over-reacted."

"No, you didn't," Cato said. "I mean, I'd freak out too if I found out that my boyfriend's first plans were to kill me . . ."

"When did you decide you weren't going to kill me?" Peeta asked.

"The first time I saw you smile."

"And when was that?"

"First night. After checking to see if you were okay after hearing you scream, I couldn't resist going back after about an hour to check on you. You were in bed, near dead to the world. Your face was screwed up when I walked in but once I approached you and got closer, you . . . smiled. And I was a damn goner after that."

"So, all that stuff you said to me when you came to my door when you heard me screaming was lies? You were talking to me with the knowledge that you were going to kill me? What's the damn point in that anyway? Asking for a virgin and then having sex with them? Isn't the whole point of virginal sacrifices that the person about to be murdered is pure because they haven't had sex yet?"

"I told you I wasn't the best of people when you first met me. I could pretend like a professional actor but you changed me. Well, you didn't mean to. All it took was a smile," Cato explained. "On the train and when I first spoke to you properly, I will be honest, I knew what Mario had let me buy you for."

"What did you think of me before your smiling epiphany?"

"Does it really matter?"

Peeta rested his forehead on his bent knees and exhaled shakily. "To me, it does. Cato, you lied to me. Now you have a chance to fix it. So answer the question. What did you think of me before the smile?"

Cato sighed heavily and sat down on the velvet armchair that sat beside him. "Bluntly or sugar coated?" he asked.

"I'm not a child. Put it to me bluntly."

"The killing hadn't been my main piority. All I could think about was how I couldn't wait to rip off all your clothes and fuck you blind."

Peeta laughed hollowly. "Am I ever going to not be viewed as someone else's sexual plaything? Or is this how it's going to be for the rest of my life?"

"No, it's not. I don't look at you like that anymore," Cato said. "I promise you changed me. I don't think like that anymore. You're my baby, my sweetheart, my light, my dark, my angel, my everything. You're not just some boy I was going to fuck and the kill anymore. I love you."

"Are you sure about that?" Peeta asked dryly. "How do I know that you won't just change your mind and I'll end up with a knife in my back?"

"I'm not going to change my mind," Cato said firmly. "You don't just 'change your mind' on this sort of thing. I love you and no matter what you think, I'm still going to care about you."

Peeta was silent, his head still ducked into his knees. "Can I have a hug?" he whispered. Cato smiled and slid down to his knees beside him. He wrapped him up in a strong embrace, cradling his head against his chest. Peeta bunched his shirt up in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he tried to control his crying.

"Sssh, it's okay," Cato hushed. "Everything's alright now. I'm not going to kill you."

"It just kind of hurt that you lied to me," Peeta said. "I mean, something like _that?_ That you picked me to be some practice tribute? What about what you said you felt about me when you first saw me? Was that lies too?"

"No. I thought of you the exact same way," Cato assured him. "Here, come on, we can maybe fit in a couple of hours sleep before we get to the Capitol."

"Promise you won't kill me?"

"You know I won't."

"I thought I knew," Peeta corrected quietly. "Now I'm not so sure."

~xXx~

"Oh Harold! I've missed you so much!" Peeta launched himself at the Capitol man, throwing his arms around his neck and laughing. Harold chuckled and wound his arms around his waist, pressing their bodies together. The cameras clicked away, capturing every moment. It was annoying to find the paprazzi waiting on them when they got off the train but he couldn't do anything about it.

Harold, being Harold, had to kiss him. Peeta had his facial expressions sketched down to a fine art, preventing himself from wincing or recoiling or pulling away from it. And after everything he had discovered about Cato on the train had him all the more eager to pretend. To act as if he hadn't been betrayed or hurt or lied to. So, turning himself into love struck Peeta, he buried his hands into his soft, brown hair and opened his mouth when he requested for permission to enter.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he was thankful for Cato stopping it, stepping back and blushing. He looked at Cato and smiled weakly, trying to convey an apologetic image, pushing up onto his toes and pecking his cheek to balance out the level of affection showed towards them both.

It didn't take long for them to get into a car and for Harold to explain what they had to do. Cato sat inbetween Peeta and the Capitol man, making sure that they were nowhere near each other. Peeta could practically feel the anger radiating off his partner and a part of him wanted to take his hand and comfort him but he held back. He was still mad at Cato for lying to him.

According to Harold, there had to be yet another Capitol Couture feature to announce their arrival in the Capiol. He also mentioned that his note was for the both of them, not just Peeta. It was now time for them to milk the hell out of the love triangle. The two _very_ different people vying for the love for the shy boy from District 12. The Capitol apparently ate that stuff for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Peeta had become used to being primped and beautified for photoshoot pictures but Cato wasn't. He complained and batted the stylists away when the stylists tried to touch up his apparent 'flaws'. Peeta didn't know what flaws they were seeing because to him, Cato was perfect, but then again, he wasn't a stylist.

"The whole braces thing is a joke," Cinna said. Peeta was thankful to see the man again, somehow feeling at ease around him. He was the only person who had been kind to him when Cato was gone. He was the only person who had looked past the love triangle to see the real him. And right now, that was really what he needed.

"You're telling me," he muttered.

"Your teeth were just fine," Cinna assured him. "This was just them wanting everything to be perfect. Perfection is not beauty, you know. Everyone needs a flaw. Don't get me started on the glasses either! Your eyes were one of your best assets that I could work with and now they're muted by these glass lens."

Peeta shrugged. "There's nothing I can do. Orders from President Snow."

Cinna nodded. "I know." He opened up his metal box of make-up tools and produced what Peeta had began to refer to as 'the instrument of terror'. "I'm sorry, I've been told to tighten them."

Peeta groaned. "Alright," he muttered. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed and opened his mouth for Cinna, tensing up when the insturment of terror got closer to his teeth. Even though he knew it didn't hurt until after, he still got nervous every time. Cato would normally stand beside him when he got it done but he didn't expect him to this time. He'd slept on his own on the train after Cato revealed his secret and they hadn't had a proper conversation since then.

And yet Cato still took his hand.

Peeta wanted to look at him but he couldn't as Cinna started tightening the braces on his teeth. Why was Cato doing this? Was he trying to comfort him or trying to make him feel guilty for locking him out since last night? He wished he hadn't done it because it make him feel twice as guilty for how he was treating him. But surely he had the right to be weary of him without being in the one in the wrong?

When Cinna finished, he stepped back with a smile and started sorting through his make-up tools again. Peeta looked down at their joint hands and frowned to fight back his tears. God, he wanted to forgive him and fall back into his arms but he couldn't. He'd been betrayed way too often to let him off the hook so easily. Gathering all his strength, he pryed his hand off of Cato's and walked away.

Later, the three of them stood in front of the white backdrop, the tensest of airs around them. Peeta could sense both Harold and Cato glaring at each other but just kept staring at the floor. He wasn't in the mood for anything other than getting this over with as soon as possible. The photographer was running late, which just added to the difficulty of it all.

"What's the point of all this Woods?" Cato finally asked, breaking the silence. "We were told that we didn't have to come back here until the last day of the Victory Tour."

Harold shrugged. "People got bored," he said. "So we brought you back in early. There will still be the Victory Tour, obviously." He narrowed his eyes at the distance Peeta and Cato had between them and quirked an eyebrow. "Brr, what's with the ice? Trouble in paradise?"

"That is none of your business," Cato replied immediately.

Peeta felt uneasy in the presence of both of them. It had only happened once before and that didn't end very well. Someone grabbed his wrist and he jerked away, turning to find Harold examining the bruises that were still healing. He felt Cato come closer, standing almost right behind him, the distance no longer applicable in the career's eyes.

"So how have you been?" Harold asked quietly, his gaze still locked on his wrist.

"Alright," Peeta answered, politely trying to tug his hand away. A different hand grabbed Harold's wrist and pressed down on his pulse until he was forced to let go.

"Don't touch him again," Cato said in a low voice. "Or you'll have me to answer to."

Peeta scowled and walked away from them both. He looked at his wrist and sighed, the bruises nearly completely healed to the point of where he couldn't really see them anymore. Cato was still looking after him, even after how he was treating him. Was that a good sign or a hint towards the point where he'd blow up at him in anger? Of course he felt horrible for basically shunning him but he couldn't feel like he could trust him properly yet. He'd knew he'd have to some day-they were still partners after all-but Cato would have to prove to him that there were no more lies before he could.

"They want you to pay for the camera, by the way," Harold said.

"The camera," Cato repeated slowly.

"Yes, the one that you broke in your bedroom," Harold confirmed.

Peeta's blood turned to ice as realization dawned on him about who exactly was watching the footage on the camera. "That was you?" Cato asked.

Harold nodded with a smirk. "President Snow had the camera fitted but I was the one who watched the video feed."

"You mean you saw . . . you saw-" Peeta stopped himself and took a deep breath so he could get the sentence out properly. "You saw . . . everything?" He met Harold's gaze for the first time since they'd arrived in the Capitol, the dark brown orbs chilling him to the bone. He wanted nothing more than to inch closer to Cato but instead he stayed glued to the spot, dreading to think of what was running through Harold's brain at that moment.

"The side effects of Capitol tablets really are cruel, aren't they?" he grinned. Peeta shut his eyes and exhaled in horror. "I don't know why you're looking so horrified, it was one of the hottest things I've ever watched in my entire life. Could collect quite a bit of money if sold to the citizens as porn."

Peeta's eyes shot open and he stared at him fearfully. Cato took a step towards the man, clenching his fist, but Peeta held a hand up, a sign not to hit him. "You wouldn't," he stated.

Harold shrugged. "I wouldn't. President Snow probably would. If this doesn't go as according to plan then it's very likely that there will be clips of Peeta Mellark masturbating leaked across the Capitol. I tried to talk him out of it but I might as well have been talking to a brick wall for all he listened."

Peeta rubbed his eyes, already feeling drained even though they hadn't even started anything. "Anymore threats he wants to pile on?" he asked. "Or is that it?"

"You know, the usual stuff. 'Do what I tell you to or I'll kill your family' and all the jazz that comes with that. I think it's getting pretty old but still, you know, he's the president. You can't argue with him," Harold said. "But, as long as you do what he says, the footage will remain mine and mine only."

"It shouldn't even be yours," Cato said. They squared up to each other, holding that air of arogance that all men about to start a fight have. Peeta stood behind Harold, preparing to intervene if nessecary. They couldn't hurt each other too severely because they'd leave marks and the Capitol hate marks. Because they were ugly and dark and disgusting.

"But it is," Harold said. "I have it all on a VCR tape. And on a backup hard drive too. It's my job to look after it in case you do decide to go against Snow's word. Which he believes you will do when you find out more of his plans . . . especially the ones that include yours turely."

"What are these 'plans' then?" Cato asked.

"Oh you know, the usual. I've been given permission to do a lot of things that I wasn't before. Things for the nights that that we have to spend together without you. Oh yeah, did I mention that there's nights were you're not allowed to be together? It aids the image. Because if Peeta really loved us both then why would he spend every night he's here with you?" Harold asked. "I mean, that wouldn't make sense now, would it?"

Peeta had to admit, it wouldn't make sense. But that didn't mean he had to like it. The thought of having to spend another night alone with Harold made his stomach churn and his heart thump against his ribcage. Cato also knew this but it didn't mean that he liked it either. "If you do anything to hurt him again, I will kill you. I don't care about Snow or his orders, I will kill you," he threatened.

"What? You mean the way you were going to kill him?"

Cato grabbed the front of Harold's shirt and pulled him up so their faces were level. "How do you even know about that?" he demanded.

Harold laughed. "Oh come on, seriously? Careers don't go to choosing ceremonies for partners, especially in a place like 12. They go for practice tributes. Partners are searched for in Districts 1,4, maybe 6 and 7 as well. Not 12. You were sent to 12 to pick someone to kill. You couldn't even do that right!" He pushed Cato's hands off him and grinned. "You prove the stereotype of careers being bloodthirsty bastards more and more every day."

Peeta recognized the vicious look in Cato's eyes and stepped forward to warn him to stop but he was too late. He raised his fist and took a swing at him. Harold was too quick though and ducked, forgetting completely that Peeta was right behind him. Unable to stop himself, Cato punched him in the face. The impact nearly knocked him over, a searing pain immediately blomming across his face.

"Oh my god Peeta!" Cato exclaimed. Peeta's hand cradled his face and he stared at Cato in shock, unable to believe that that had just happened. "Are you alright?!"

"You punched me!" Peeta exclaimed in shock.

"Christ Harold couldn't you just stand there and take a punch like a man!" Cato yelled. Blood began to trickle out of Peeta's nose and he hand to pinch it to prevent the flow from getting too strong. "Oh god, let me see." He took his face into his hands and examined the damage which consisted of an already growing bruise and a bleeding nose. "Shit, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Peeta said quickly. He stepped backwards away from him and found himself going off the set to find something to mop his nose up with. Cato called after him but he ignored him, leaving the set and walking back in the direction of the make-up room. Cinna would know how to take care of this. If he asked what happened, he'd tell him that he walked into a door on the way in. Cato didn't mean to hit him, after all. It was Harold's fault after all.

All the corridors looked the same, he soon realized. All the same stainless steel walls and floor, each one looking as endless as the next. Peeta ran his hand along the wall as he walked, trying to remember how the doors worked. Was there handles? Were they automatic? He coudn't remember. And he couldn't remember where the room even was.

There was a noise not so far ahead and he followed it, thinking he'd maybe find Cinna or the stylist team. The blood trickling out of nose was now dripping onto his lips and falling off his chin so he hoped to god that they were close by or he was going to end up covered in it. He followed the noise down the corridor and took a left. An opened door lay ahead, a small slit of light spilling out. Peeta approached it, hand over his nose, and peered through the open slit.

A peacekeeper sat with his back to the door, an array of screens in front of him. On some of them there were images of fighting, of fire and debris and screaming. Footage from the dark days maybe? Of the uprisings in the Districts during the war? On a separate screen there was Cato talking with Clove ontop of the cornucopia the night of the rule change. Then there was a live video feed to the photo shoot set where Cato and Harold stood yelling at each other again, no surprises there.

Then, right in the middle, on the biggest screen, was the christmas tree back in 2. It was a relay loop of Ava putting her grandfather's star up onto the branch. He was on the footage too because he had her on his shoulders at the time. The clip was about ten to twenty seconds long and consisted of the moment he pulled Ava up onto his shoulders and helped her put the decoration up. At the very last second, it zoomed in on the mockinjay carved into the glass.

Blood was now making a puddle in his hand so he was about to step forward to ask for help when something caught his eye.

On one of the dark days clips it showed people running through the streets away from a new front of peacekeepers, the screaming and shouting never ceasing. There were explosions and gunfire and fires everywhere. That wasn't what grabbed his attention though. What caught his eye was a broken newspaper stand who's product lay haphazardally on the road. On the front of each one, the same headline:

_**Cato Hadley from District 2 wins the Hunger Games!**_

This was . . . recent. Had to be recent. Abeit a couple of months maybe but it was recent enough. Right after Cato won the Hunger Games. But there hasn't been uprisings since the dark days. It couldn't possibly be recent.

Right?

_**A/N: Uh-oh. As Harold says, 'Trouble in Paradise'.**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay, here's chapter five! ^_^**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Five

Screaming seemed pointless. The idea of screaming is to expess pain, distress and fear. It's a cry of agony. A plea for it to stop. There is no point in screaming if you know that no one is coming. That you're on your own to face the torment.

Doesn't mean you can't fight back.

"Touch me at all anytime tonight, I will beat you to death," Peeta threatened. He held his cane up so Harold could see it properly. "Do I make myself clear?"

Harold shrugged. "There's only one bed. Maybe we'll bump hips during the night," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Peeta scoffed at the gesture, sitting down on the edge of the bed and sighing. "Where's Cato?" he asked. "Right now, I mean?"

"I think he's on a different floor," Harold answered, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. "Why? Missing him already? That's a bit clingy. I thought you were mad at him? Find out he was planning to kill him and then he punches you in the face?"

Peeta's hand tensed around his cane and he scowled. "That was your fault. You ducked like a coward," he said. He looked down at himself and sighed. "I don't have anything to sleep in," he muttered quietly.

"Here," Harold said. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over to him. "Wear that. I'll be fine in my undershirt."

"I'm not sure I'd be though."

Harold held his hands up. "I swear I'm not going to bite," he said. He clenched his teeth, as if fighting off an extra comment, and forced a smile. "We're just going to sleep. If it makes you feel any more comfortable, I'll keep my pants on as well."

Peeta nodded, still not sure but knowing it was the best it was going to get. "Okay," he said. Propping his cane up against the wall, he pulled his shirt over his head and quickly shrugged on Harold's. It smelt like Capitol perfume and body polish. He tried not to gag as he buttoned it up. He unbuttoned his pants-knowing that there was no point trying to sleep in them since they were the only clothes he had at the moment and knowing that Harold had already seen all of him anyway so it didn't matter-and pushed them off, the usual scowl forming on his face when he saw the scar on his thigh.

"You know you don't have to protect him," Harold said. Peeta was surprised that when he turned around, the Capitol man was staring at the wall, having given him privacy to get changed. "He's no better than me now, you have to know that, right? He was going to kill you. Even I didn't want that. Sure, I wound and I mark but I'd never kill. Surely that puts us both on even ground now that you know that Cato isn't god's gift either."

"I don't know about either of you now," Peeta muttered. It was true. He didn't know what he felt about anyone anymore. He loved Cato, he always had, but it was like the fact that he betrayed him left a gaping chasm in his heart that he didn't know how to fill. Cato's first intention when he picked him out of all the other boys in 12 was to drive his sword through his heart. That wasn't something you could look past. Harold was right, it basically put them both on even ground. Sort of.

Harold had raped him and Cato had betrayed him. Some would view the former as the worser thing but Peeta wasn't so sure. At least Harold was upfront and honest about everything. About his flaws, his feelings, everything, even if it was ugly. But Cato . . . he'd been lying to him for six months now. About . . . everything, really. He didn't know if he could ever trust him again.

"I'm not saying that I'm any better," Harold said. "I'm in no way a better choice but all I'm asking for right now is a chance. The sort of chance that you were giving Cato. Please."

Peeta didn't know if he could do that either.

"The months when you weren't here, they were the most empty weeks of my life. I hadn't realized how attatched I'd gotten. The t.v footage wasn't enough. I mean, watching you sleep and have sex with your partner does get boring after all."

Peeta didn't answer. He instead lay down and threw the quilt over his head, making it clear to Harold that he just couldn't talk about his right now. Instead of pulling the quilt away or continuing to badger him like he thought he would, Harold sighed and lay down beside him. He rested his hand on his hip and Peeta was surprised to find that his touch wasn't cold or rough like it had felt when he had ever touched him before. He didn't flinch away or bat his hand off of him. It didn't feel needed.

"I love you," Harold said quietly. Peeta tensed, knowing that he couldn't say it back. "Don't worry, I don't expect you to say it back. Not unless you want to."

Peeta nodded silently into the pillow. "Okay," he whispered. "Thank you."

~xXx~

_Harold:_

Well, shit.

When Peeta wasn't there and he was on his own, he could come up with thousands of ways he could hurt him to make the marks Snow had requested. Tie him to the bed again, smack him about a couple of times, force him into one of his more raunchy fantasies, (this thought only occuring when he was extremely horny or in need of a wank), the list really was endless. But then, every time the boy was standing in front of him, he couldn't do it. The only way he knew he would be able to get a mark on him was to duck when Cato took a swing at him. Now there was a pretty satisifying bruise on his nose that had already begun to swell. Cinna had been able to hide it from the photographer but as soon as the make-up came off, the injury was all too prominant.

Peeta wasn't sleeping beside him anymore. Earlier in the night, he had taken a nightmare and had woken up screaming, tears streaming down his face and soaking the pillow and duvet. Harold knew what the dream had been about because he talked about it in his sleep. He had dreamed that Cato had killed him. It pissed him the fuck off that the bastard had done that to him. Who the fuck goes to a district to find someone to kill and then choose someone who they think is attractive? It was a dumbass move on Cato's part, especially when he fucked up the lying bit and had to tell him the truth. The lying is supposed to be the easiest part!

After the nightmare, Peeta had stayed up for a bit, just sitting in the armchair that was pushed against the wall at the bottom of the bed and staring dead ahead at the wall in front of him. Harold had desperately wanted to say something to him but didn't know what. 'I'm sorry your boyfriend betrayed you but if you want any comfort at any time, come to me, the guy who molested you and then taunted you about it afterwards'? Somehow, he didn't think that would work out well.

He was now asleep in the armchair, curled up in a small ball with his face buried into the back cushion. Harold couldn't sleep knowing that he was sitting there so vulnerable but didn't have the heart to wake him up so instead sat in bed, watching him sleep.

It was actually quite fascinating. The rise and fall of his chest, the way he'd occasionally lick his lips to moisten them, how goosepimples had broken out across his skin because he was sleeping in a chilly room without a blanket, the way he snored and how it was soft and gentle, not voilent and irritating, the way his hair was mussed up from tossing and turning, he could name thousands more attributes that made him want to just watch him forever.

The softness of his thoughts unnerved Harold. Normally the first thing he would have noted would have been the way his shirt was too big on him and bunched up at his waist, exposing the dimples of his back and the line of his hipbone, not the way his nose would twitch when strands of hair fell into his face. Or how his underwear accented the curve of his backside as he lay curled up in the chair, not the way his eyebrows would dip and rise depending on what sort of dream he was having. Or how sinfully smooth his legs were and how much he wanted to run his hands up the ivory skin slowly, not how his eyelashes flickered thin shadows across his cheeks when his eyes fluttered.

Harold could only come to the conclusion that he was losing his mind.

Or more like Peeta was taking it from him.

He had just stood up to grab a blanket and put it over him when Cato came in (without knocking. Typical). "Before you jump to any conclusions," Harold whispered, "he's wearing my shirt because he had nothing else to sleep in. He took his pants off himself, which I'm very proud of him for bucking up the courage to do, even if he did stay a constant shade of pink for an entire ten minutes after."

"You better not have made him uncomfortable," Cato hissed.

Harold rolled his eyes. "I stared at the wall the entire time he got changed, I swear." He held his hand up and made a weird gesture with his fingers. "Scout's honour."

"Why's he sleeping in the chair? Do you need the whole bed for yourself?" Cato asked coldly.

"He had a nightmare actually," Harold replied. "And moved there when he couldn't sleep. Then he fell asleep again. Poor lamb couldn't stay awake too long."

"Couldn't you have lifted him back to the bed?"

"Do I _look_ like the lifting type?" Harold held up his average sized arm and pointed at his bicep. "I can't even beat a toddler at arm wrestling!" Cato knelt beside the car and gently turned Peeta's face to examine it. Harold winced, praying he didn't wake him up. His nose was now a deep shade of pruple and greatly swollen.

"God," Cato muttered.

"You really should learn how to control your temper Hadley," Harold said.

"Shut up asshole, you ducked."

Peeta turned towards Cato in his sleep, his feet sliding over the edge of the chair so his legs hung over the arm. The gesture made Cato smile and he carefully brushed a curl off his forehead. Harold sighed and rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself for only just noticing that the first couple of buttons had slipped out of their holes on his shirt, the material having shifted down to expose the boy's chest and nipples. God, what was happening him?

"You know he doesn't deserve either of us, right?" he said.

"I know," Cato answered. "I just wish . . . I could have been better, you know? For him. After what your best friend put him through, he deserved nothing less."

"My what?"

"Mya," Cato said.

"Oh right, Mya," Harold said. "She's not my friend." This much was true. Sure, Mya and him were close but it was only through their mutual understanding of the fact they had both hated Peeta. The past tense being for him only as Mya still held a great animosty towards him for busting her business. "How did he get on in District 2? After the Games?" Cato gave him a strange look. "Please just tell me, I want to know how he's been."

Cato smiled tenderly, looking back at Peeta's face. "He got on good. He continued his education but did sometimes skip class and failed to concentrate . . ."

Harold smirked at the thought of Peeta having a bad boy side. The sort of side . . . President Snow wanted _him_ to have in the relationship . . . The smirk faded.

"A lot of people in 2 thought he was sick because of the shade of his skin," Cato explained. "They'd always give him pieces of bread and cups of hot chocolate for free in the market to get his metabolism up."

"Their loss for not knowing how attractive pale skin is," Harold murmured. He had always loved pale skin. Especially on Peeta. It made him look like he was made up of porcelin, matching his delicate, gentle self perfectly. It was what made him crave his touch, for him to want him to give him a second chance and let him show him that he had changed and would treat him like he was porcelin, carefully not roughly.

"Yeah," Cato agreed quietly. It took them both a moment to realize that they had agreed on something and hadn't even yelled at each other yet. Quickly brushing it off, Cato stood up. "He'll get a crick in his neck if keeps sleeping like this." He scooped Peeta up into his arms, wincing when he whimpered softly in his sleep. After a moment, he settled back down and his head fell against his chest. "Pull the covers back," he told Harold.

Doing as he was told, Harold pulled the covers off the bed and watched as Cato carefully lay him down on the bed. Taking comfort in his new sleeping place, Peeta smiled and turned over onto his stomach, so he nearly took up half of the bed. Harold and Cato chuckled, both of them looking at each other in alarm after.

"Needs a lot of space, doesn't he?" Harold said.

"Yeah, he'd push me out of the bed if I didn't hold him half the time," Cato replied.

Harold tucked the covers back up around him and kissed the top of his head. Cato didn't stop him, not seeing the gesture as a threat. "You know I've changed," Harold said quietly. "I've conditioned myself over the past five months. I'd never hurt him now . . . the whole sarcastic asshole thing is an act . . ."

"I'm sure you understand why I wouldn't believe you," Cato said back.

Harold nodded. "Yeah." He frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Do you know what MEA is Cato?" he asked.

"No," Cato answered.

"Morbid Erotic Addiction," Harold explained. "It's a form of sex addiction. I was diagnosed with it shortly after you guys went back to District 2. I suppose it explains a lot. I mean, normally the people with MEA would want to have sex with anyone but apparently I've got some refined case where there's only one person I'm willing to do it with. And it's Peeta."

Cato clenched his jaw and knelt down on the ground beside the bed, his hand immediately coming to rest on Peeta's back. "So you've got some sex disease and it's because of Peeta?" he said, trying to hide how angry he was.

"It's not because of him, exactly," Harold was quick to amend. "It's just because I'm being denied him and no one . . . seems to believe me when I say that I love him. It's like people telling you that they don't believe _you_ love him. Can you imagine how frustrating that would be?"

Cato looked at Peeta and then back at Harold. "I can imagine," he said shortly.

"Anyway I was put on meds. They work really, really well. But since they've dampened my more erotic self, it has opened up a part of myself I didn't know needed be opened. I can see stuff now. Things that I couldn't see before. How beauty doesn't have to mean sex appeal, that love isn't about fucking, that Peeta is never going to want to give me a chance unless I respect him the way he deserves to be respected . . ." Harold explained.

Cato shook his head. "He's mine, you have to understand that. I love him, he's my partner," he said. "And even if he's angry with me right now, he still loves me back."

Harold nodded, gritting his teeth to fight back the ache in his throat. "I know," he said. "But I can't . . . give up on him. I don't want to be a horrible, dirty man anymore. I don't want to kiss his neck anymore, I want to kiss his hand. I want to see him bite his lip shyly, not do it myself. I don't want to fuck him, I want to hold him in my arms when the nightmares come . . . I'm not sure who I'm turning into but I'm not who I used to be."

"You molested him, Harold, that's not something you can just forget," Cato said.

"You betrayed him, that's not something you can just forget either," Harold threw back.

Cato glared at him with hatred before he sighed tiredly. "God, we're horrible people." he muttered. Harold nodded, unable to disagree. Cato busied himself tucking the covers around Peeta's sleeping body, making sure he was wrapped up warm.

"Did your family know about what you were going to District 12 for?" Harold asked.

Cato laughed an empty laugh. "No," he said. "Well, my dad did but it didn't mean he agreed with it. It was my uncle who wanted this and he'd somehow convinced me that it was a good idea. My mother and Kayla thought that I was just chosing a partner. I was supposed to choose someone who I wouldn't mind killing but when I saw him, I just couldn't help it. He was too beautiful. I had to have him."

Harold nodded, understanding the feeling.

"Harold," Cato asked after a while, "do you know why President Snow hates him so much?"

Harold raised his eyebrows at the question. "I found out a couple of weeks ago," he answered.

"Well, why does he hate him?"

"When his mother was arrested and taken the Capitol, she wasn't punished like Mya. Snow and her went out for a bit. They were nearly engaged until she cheated on him. I think Snow really loved her and it hit him hard when Mrs Mellark betrayed him like that . . . he killed her for it but I don't think he really got over it," Harold explained. "I think he's taking that hatred out on Peeta."

Cato nodded along as he explained, his eyes locked on the back of Peeta's head while he slept. "I see," he said. "Snow is a bastard and Peeta's mother is no better."

Harold nodded in agreement. Twice within an hour. This really was strange. "It's made him very keen to make his life hell," he said. "Because he's a jealous asshole who just wants someone to take his jealousy out on. You know he wants me to hurt him. He told me to make marks on him for the Capitol to see. That's the only reason I ducked when you swung at me. Because I know I can't do it. Five months ago? No problem. Now? No. It's not happening. I just can't."

"It's our job to look after him," Cato said firmly. "I know we don't get along very well and I'm not purposing that we do in any shape and form, permanantly anyway. I think we should at least try. The power of two to protect him over the power of one would be so much more effective."

Harold quirked an eyebrow. "Why, Hadley, are you purposing an alliance?"

"Yes," Cato answered. "For Peeta." He held his hand out towards him. Harold didn't even need to think about it. He just shook his hand. They both set aside their differences, knowing that their dislike for each other was not the main piority. Peeta's safety and welfare was.

"For Peeta."

_**A/N: Man to man talk with Cato and Harold. What do you think of the outcome? **_

_**Please R&R! :D **_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Sorry the delay! I had a touch of writer's block, hence the newest chapter of 'Sharing' (:**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Six

The alliance worked. So far anyway. Through the photoshoots and the publicity interviews, Cato and Harold smiled and answered on que, not giving away a single hint of animosty towards each other. When a camera wasn't pointed at them they didn't fight or argue or try to physically injure each other. It was difficult, for both of them, but when you're doing something for the person you love, it's worth the effort.

If Peeta noticed, he didn't show it. Cato would notice him turn to look at them both curiously when they'd hold a civil conversation, not understanding what was with the sudden change of heart. They had discussed telling him about the alliance but decided it could wait, since all Peeta would probably do would be insist that he doesn't need protection and could look after himself. Which they could understand-after spending so long being dependant on others, it was only natural to immediately insist that you don't need help-but didn't agree with.

After spending two days with Harold, it was finally Cato's turn to share a room with him over night. Harold had taken his job of protector very seriously, making sure that Peeta took his tablets, even when he didn't want to, made sure he slept well and stopped acting like . . . well . . . _himself._

They hadn't been together for a single night since Cato had told Peeta the truth and even though he was desperate to be with him again, he was dreading how he was going to treat him. Was it going to be awkward or was he just going to refuse to speak to him? When not doing interviews, they barely spoke to each other and Peeta spent more time alone, not favouring the company of either of them.

He had been held behind by one of his stylists after having an argument over how it was _not_ a good idea to dye a long purple streak down the middle of his head and was a little bit late getting back to the apartment (Thankfully, with no purple streaks). When he got up the stairs, he was surprised to find Mya leaning against the door.

She hadn't changed. In fact, she looked healthier since the last time he'd seen her, which was very irritating, to say the least. "What are you doing here?" he asked her cautiously.

_"I'm not here to reek havoc so you can relax,"_ she wrote._ "I'm actually here to warn you."_

Cato frowned. "Warn me what?"

_"President Snow would never tell you this," _ Mya added, as an afterthought.

"Then why are you wanting to tell me?"

Mya scowled. _"It is not out of kindness, allow me to assure you that. It's out of wishing to see your reaction."_

"Okay then," Cato said. "Tell me."

_"The Districts aren't beliving the love triangle. They see it as a publicity stunt, which you and I both know it is. But what you and I also know is that the Districts shouldn't know this," _Mya explained._ "There wasn't a problem with it, for a while. But once you won the Hunger Games and they realized that they were going to continue the triangle to the point of forcing Peeta into pretending to love you both . . . well, they had enough."_

Hold on, what? "They had enough," Cato repeated slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

_"The Districts have never been aware of the things that the Capitol do to the victors so the frank open-ness of the love triangle came as a shock to them. And they didn't like it. So they started to rebell. Fights in the streets and such. It's gotten worse only just recently."_

"What are you trying to say?" Cato asked. "That people in some Districts are starting fights just because they don't like the love triangle? That doesn't make sense."

_"It was quelled for a while,"_ Mya explained._ "But then a piece of footage got leaked out of Peeta getting a mockingjay put onto a tree in 2."_

"He wasn't putting on himself," Cato said. "That was Ava's grandfather's christmas bauble. I think he was just giving her a hand . . . And what do you mean footage? How many cameras has Snow been watching us through?"

_"Don't flatter yourself. It's not all about you. Snow has eyes everywhere. Not just for you but for everyone. To keep a tab on every citizen in every District, making sure they are all behaving and not acting in defiance to the Capitol," _Mya answered._ "It was by pure concidence that it was the mockingjay footage that got leaked. Now they're viewing it as an act of rebellion. Like . . . Peeta is trying to tell them that they don't own him. That they can't force him into something he doesn't want. By putting the craft of a citizen onto the work of the Capitol. It's become an image. The image of a mockingjay."_

"A . . . mockingjay," Cato said.

_"Yes, a mockingjay. They're all looking to him now. Not sure why. The kid couldn't lead a rebellion ever if he tried,"_ Mya wrote._ "They think if he could express such defiance, why can't they? Why can't they start an uprising, of all things?"_

Cato scowled. "Now you're just being ridiculous," he said. "That was a decoration, that's all that bauble was. It was an act of kindness, not defiance. There haven't been uprisings since the dark days and there never will be again. If you're trying to scare me it's not working. Now, if you don't mind, can you get out of my way?"

Mya rolled her eyes and smiled. _"Okay, believe what you like. I'm not going to waste my time trying to convince you. Please go on ahead."_ She stepped aside._ "Go be with the Mockingjay."_

"Don't call him that," Cato said, walking around her and going into his room. He shut the door in Mya's face and braced himself. If there was one thing Mya was very good at, it was getting on his last nerve. He sighed and turned around, ready to banish the avox from his thoughts.

One of the weirdest features of his room in the apartment building was the fishtank. It separated the bathroom from the main room, being part of the wall itself. If you stood right infront of it, you could see inside the bathroom. Not the shower cubicle or the toilet, just the area where the sinks sit so it wasn't as perverted as it sounded.

Peeta stood infront of said fishtank, tapping the glass curiously with his finger and watching the fish as they swam around inside. There were small lights inside the tank that made the water glow luminous blue. "This is beautiful," he murmured. "Why isn't there fish tanks in all the rooms?"

Cato shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's a luxury that only the rooms on the higher floors have?" he suggested. Peeta considered it, his finger following one of the fish as it travelled through the water. He was still dressed up in Capitol clothes from an interview they had taken part in earlier, bar the fact that he had taken his shoes off. The jacket was strange-even for Capitol clothes- because the back of it reached down to the backs of his knees and Cato wondered why he was still wearing it since he had gotten out of his own as soon as he had the chance.

"I suppose," Peeta finally agreed. Cato watched his reflection in the glass of the tank, wishing that he would look at him. He walked into the bathroom and went to the other side of the tank, studying Peeta's face carefully. He was still following the fish, his eyes downcast. The blue lights inside the tank reflected and bounced off his face, shadows flickering under his cheekbones and through his eyelashes.

"Peeta," Cato said. No response, not even a flicker of recognition after hearing his name. "Peeta," he repeated. Still nothing. "Please at least look at me."

Reluctantly, Peeta looked up at him, the lights making the blue of his eyes look brighter than he had ever seen them. "What?" he asked. His voice was sharp and slightly harsh, so harsh that the single word felt like it was cutting him through down to the bone.

"Remember you told me that you'd given me the key to your heart and when I first made love to you it was giving me the lock as well?" Cato asked.

"Yeah, it was a stupid speech. And?"

"Whether you want me or not, whether you never speak to me again or finally someday find it in your heart to forgive me, I'll still always have them. Your key and lock are stored away in my heart, where I also keep your virginity safely held," Cato said.

"What are you trying to say?" Peeta asked.

"I'm trying to say that I love you. Always have and always will," Cato answered. "I mean, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, nor do I deserve mercy of any kind, but I do want you to talk to me again. I can't handle this coldness. Every second you look at me in disgust or with hurt in your eyes, it kills me. And I'm dying very slowly because of it. If you want, I can even give your key and lock back, if you want to keep it for someone else who you will . . . love in the end."

Peeta shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "You can keep them."

"Is that your way of saying I can have a second chance?"

"It's my way of saying that I miss you," Peeta corrected. "But I can't look past what you did. One of the first things you thought when you chose me was 'I'm going to drive my sword through this kid's heart'. That's not something I can just forgive."

"Drive my sword through . . . That's not what I first thought," Cato frowned. "What I first thought of was how it was even possible for someone as beautiful as you to be in a place like 12. It didn't even dawn on me until I got onto the train that I would have to kill you. I thought of how your hair was so bright that it could teach the sun how to shine, how your eyes were so blue that they were what brought the sea crashing to the shore, that your lips were so soft that it would put pure velvet to shame."

"Is that yours or someone else's words?" Peeta asked sourly.

"Mine," Cato answered honestly. "I don't need someone else's words to express something I'm really sure about. I thought about how much I wanted to wake up to your face beside mine every morning, about how I wanted you to lean against me instead of your cane to help you walk, how I had to take you back with me or I'd regret it for the rest of my life. The prospect of having to kill you never passed through my mind in that moment."

"Uh-huh. Whatever," Peeta muttered. "I almost believe that as much as I'd believe it if Harold told me he was going to go absinant."

"There's more to Harold than meets the eye," Cato said, not even sure why he was so quick to defend Harold.

"You told me that all you wanted to do was have sex with me," Peeta said.

"And you think I wanted to have sex with any old person I saw?" Cato demanded.

"You certainly seemed to have enough experience," Peeta muttered.

Okay, that stung a little bit.

"I suppose I deserved that," he said. "Sure, I had experience. But there's a difference between the past people and you. I loved you. I love you. Not them."

"And when you had your relationship with Daniel, did you or did you not believe you loved him as well?" Peeta asked. "And don't lie to me. You've lied to me enough."

Shit.

"Yes. At one point I believed that I loved Daniel but-"

"Then how is that different? What separates us? What if someday you get bored of me and just leave me behind? There's no stopping you. I'm boring as hell. I could make a monk hang himself within an hour of conversation with him. I'm not interesting or alluring or sexy or brilliant. You have no reason to stay with me."

"You know how it's different?" Cato said. "It's different because I say it's different. I left Daniel because in the end there was something missing. When I wasn't with him, there wasn't a gaping hole in my chest. I realized that if he left me, I wouldn't mind that much. I love _you_ because I say so. _You_ were the person who filled that missing piece. When I'm not with _you_ there's a hole in my chest. That damn hole is getting bigger and bigger the more you hate me."

"I don't hate you!" Peeta snapped. "You think it doesn't hurt _me_ every moment I'm not with _you_? Because it does Cato! You're not the only one suffering!" Cato walked out of the bathroom and went around to stand beside him. "But I can't just forgive you at the drop of the hat for the sake of the fact that my heart aches. And it doesn't help that every waking hour I can't think of anything else other than how much I want to fall back into your arms when you talk to me like this and how much it kills me to turn my back on you every single time and-"

Cato grabbed his face and kissed him firecely. Peeta made a small noise of protest at the back of his throat, pushing against him for only a second before melting into it. His hands stayed where they were on his chest, where he had been pushing against him. Cato licked the cupid's bow of his top lip, giving it a soft nip. When Peeta closed his eyes and moaned, he used the opportunity to push his tongue past his reluctant lips.

"Cato," he gasped when they had to pull apart. "I hadn't forgave you-" He was cut off when Cato kissed him again. The force knocked him back against the wall. Peeta was breathless, unable to bring a single cohearant thought into his head without it being quickly knocked back out again by the feeling of sharing breath with Cato again.

"Peeta," Cato murmured, just because he loved the sound of his name rolling off his tongue. He flicked open the buttons on his jacket, pushing it back off his shoulders.

"Cato, I love you but I can't-"

"Yes." Cato kissed him hard. "You can."

Peeta shook his head defiantly, his eyes falling closed as if he could ward it all off. Cato pushed his shirt sleeve down carefully, gently pressing kisses against his skin, while single handedly unbuttoning the little jeweled buttons on the shirt. He was surprised when Peeta grabbed him by the hair and used the grip to pull him up to face him. "I'm still angry at you," he said.

"Well, I kind of figured," Cato replied. He pried Peeta's fingers off his hair. "I suppose you're getting better at spotting the whole 'charming into your pants' thing . . ." Even as he spoke, he was already leaning back toward him, until his mouth was inches away from his lips. Peeta put his fingers against his lips and pushed him back a couple of centimetres.

"Yes actually, I am," he said. "I'm not that naive anymore. Or innocent I suppose."

Cato couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I'm sorry babe but you're still very much innocent."

Peeta scowled. "I'm not," he said. "I can be just as . . . what's the opposite of innocent?"

"Uh, dirty? You can't be dirty," Cato said. "I'm sorry. You can be many things but dirty is not one of them."

"Okay whatever," Peeta said dryly. "As I've said, I haven't forgiven you. You can't just come in here guns all blazing and sexy as hell on freakin' fire and expect me to melt. _Oh Cato, how I have waited for you all wo' these many hours to come and kiss me like I'm the only person in the _damn_ world?_ Ha! I think not. I'm not a damsel in distress."

Cato quirked an amused eyebrow. "Sexy as hell on freakin' fire?" he asked.

"That's all you got out of that?" Peeta asked incredulously.

"Well, it's not often you'd say something like that."

Peeta looked up at the ceiling and folded his arms, causing the half-unbuttoned shirt to fall down his arm and hang off his elbow. "Well it's true," he said sheepishly. "I'm just not very good at expressing such things. Out of fear of being judged more than anything else."

"I suppose this is the moment were I tell you that you can say anything to me and we get into a really deep and meaningful conversation to regain our trust for each other. Well, I'd still trust you to the ends of the earth but I mean more like you regaining your trust for me," Cato said.

"No, it's not," Peeta answered.

Cato frowned. "It's . . . not?"

"No, it's not."

"Then what is it then?"

"It's the moment were you kiss me again."

Cato raised his eyebrows. "Oh is it now?"

Peeta sniffed arrogantly and nodded. "I think so," he said. "Because, as I said, you are sexy as hell on freakin' fire." Immediately after saying this his eyes averted away from him and he blushed. "Which of course sounds horrible and like I'm being a comeplete idiot who objectifys men."

"Hey, you can objectify me all you want," Cato said. "After what I did to you, you can objectify me for the rest of your life if that's what you truly want."

"It's not really my thing," Peeta said. "Objectifying . . . Okay, just kiss me, alright? We are getting nowhere!"

"Oh god, you've gotten demanding," Cato teased.

"Do you _want_ to get smacked? I think that justifies a smack."

"Just come here you goofball." Cato leaned down and kissed him again, abeit a bit more roughly now that he knew that Peeta wanted it just as much as he did. He had just managed to get him to part him lips for him when he cut his tongue on his braces. "Shit," he cursed, stepping back and holding his hand to his mouth.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Peeta exclaimed. "God, I ruin everything!"

Cato compared the small cut on the tip of his tongue to the gigantic bruise that resided on Peeta's nose. It really was nothing to freak out over. "It's okay, it's just a graze," he assured him.

"Maybe it's a sign," Peeta said. "A sign that I'm jumping back with you too soon. I mean, god, you were going to kill me . . ." Shit, he was backtracking. "All this shows is that I'm some needy tart hocked up on medication that makes me desperate for sex, taking the first chance that I got to have someone else breathe for me!"

"No it's not a sign," Cato said in a rush. "It's just your braces being slightly sharp and leathal! It doesn't mean anything!"

"Oh my god." Peeta covered his mouth with his hands in horror. "No, Cato, I'm sorry, I can't do this. I just . . . I got to go . . ."

Cato tried to grab his hand as he made a break for the door but Peeta was too quick and dodged him. "Peeta, wait!" Ignoring him, Peeta ripped the door open and left, slamming it shut behind him. "Fuck!" What the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn't have kissed him. But he thought he wanted it. He did lean into him and kiss back after all. If he told him to stop, he would have stopped. He would never have done anything to him against his will. He wouldn't do _anything_ to him if he didn't want it, he wouldn't dream of it.

Cato yelled in frustration and punched the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster.

~xXx~

_**Peeta:**_

Wet . . . His cheeks were wet. Damnit, he was crying. He let out a choked sob and fell back against the door, sliding down to floor weakly. He was a horrible person, he really was. He made Cato think he had forgiven him. Why had he let him kiss him? He hadn't meant to. It had just felt like it had been so long since Cato had held him and kissed him and cared for him, he just couldn't resist him.

It wasn't Cato's fault. It was his own fault. He had lead him to believe that it was okay. But for a couple of minutes in there, he had believed that he could forgive him. That they could forget everything and be intimate again. But when Cato cut himself on his braces, it was like he had been thrown back into reality. With that came the realization that things couldn't work like that. No matter how much either of them wanted it to. He couldn't just forgive and forget that he was going to kill him. That he had chose him to kill him. And he had just lead him on for the past fifteen minutes.

Footsteps thudded up the stairs, first distant, then closer and closer. "Peeta!" Peeta looked up fearfully, the sudden movement causing fresh tears to drip out of his eyes, just in time to catch Harold appear at the top of the stairs. "I heard yelling downstairs, is everything-" He immediately saw him sitting against the door. His eyes narrowed when he took in how the situation looked.

Peeta looked down at himself in horror, immediately catching on how it all looked. He was sitting outside of Cato's room with his shirt hanging off him , tear stained cheeks and red eyes. "Harold, it's not what it looks like," he said, scrambling to his feet. Barely hearing him, Harold's face screwed up into a scowl and he pushed past him into the room.

"What did you do?!" he roared at Cato. "What did you do to him?! We agreed that we weren't going to touch him until he expressed willingly that he was ready for it! That was part of the alliance! What did you do to him! Look, he's a wreck!"

"Harold, it wasn't his fault," Peeta insisted.

"I just kissed him," Cato said in a calm voice.

"He just kissed me," Peeta parroted.

"Then why were you crying?" Harold asked. He turned around and cupped his cheeks, swiping the tears away with his thumbs. Peeta turned his face away from him, knowing that he couldn't lead Harold astray either.

"Reasons," Peeta muttered. He didn't want to tell him that he was crying over the fact that he had finally came upon the realization that he was nothing but a whore vying for attention. Because it would probably just make Harold say that he wasn't. It didn't matter what he'd say anyway, he'd know he was lying because he was just trying to make him feel better. "Can we just leave it alone, please? I promise that Cato didn't do anything." He never thought it would ever come to having to convince _Harold, _of all people, that_ Cato_ hadn't done anything inappropriate.

"You know I would never hurt him," Cato said.

Harold turned back to face the career and raised an eyebrow. "I think if you saw him sitting against _my_ door crying with an unbuttoned shirt, you'd think the exact same thing." Not that he was taking sides or anything, but Peeta supposed that Harold was probably right. But not just Cato, _anyone_ would probably jump to the exact same conclusion if they saw a half dressed boy weeping with swollen lips from being kissed senseless.

"Why are you even here?" Cato asked. "It's my night with him, right?"

"Apart from the scream?" Harold asked. "I've also been given some news."

Peeta frowned, buttoning his shirt back up and moving to stand beside him. "What news?" he asked.

Harold shook his head, looking down at the floor. "The date for the 75th Hunger Games has been moved up. It will take place in March, not June."

Peeta's eyes widened and his jaw unhinged. They were moving the Hunger Games up so it happened earlier? Was this because it was the Quarter Quell? Every twenty five years there was a special Hunger Games called the Quater Quell, desgined to keep things fresh and the horror real. For the first Quarter Quell-the 25th Hunger Games-the citizens of each District had to vote their tributes into the Games themselves. Peeta couldn't imagine how horrifying that must have been. For the tributes that year to _know_ that they had been voted in by their friends and neighbours.

For the second and most recent Quarter Quell, twice as many tributes were reaped into the Games. Two girls and two boys from each District. That was the year that the man from 12-Haymitch Abernathy-had won. He had been an ally to Maylisee Donner, Peeta's old friend Madge's auntie. Peeta hadn't been born at the time of those Games and all he knew was that Maylisee had died in Haymitch's arms and ever since then the man had been drowning his sorrows in alcohol, his family nowhere to be seen. Peeta supposed most of them had died of starvation by now or something like that because it was common in 12 for the families of victors to refuse to use their winning money or eat their food. It was basically like they were leaving them behind.

"If it's being moved to March, then when's the Victory Tour?" Peeta asked.

"That's the thing," Harold said. "We're leaving tomorrow."

"We?" Cato asked.

"Yes, we," Harold replied. "I'll be coming with you but I won't be making public appearances. Peeta will be allowed to go with you to the dinners and parties in the Districts but I will stay on the train the entire time, Mira's orders." Peeta remembered Mira. The escort from 2 who was the clone of 12's escort Effie Trinket. What they lacked in similarity in appearance, they made up for in personality. He found himself relaxing. He thought that Harold was going to come and tell him that Snow wanted to them to do a three-way sex tape or something mortifying like that. Pushing up the Victory Tour wasn't so bad. Even if it did bring them one step closer to another Hunger Games.

"I suppose that's not too bad," Cato said, voicing his thoughts. "So what's the schedule for tomorrow then?"

"Well, Mira says we have to be on the train bright and early if we want to be at 12 by the next morning so she's waking us up at 5am, giving us an hour to get ready before we have to be on the train," Harold explained.

A lump pushed its way up into Peeta's throat. "We're going to 12 first?"

Harold nodded. "The tour starts at 12 and works it's way backwards, all the way down to the Capitol. Since it's your home District and all, I asked Mira if she could play about with the numbers and see if there was any way possible we could stay in the District over night. You know, to see your family and all. I know you haven't seen them in months."

It was true, he hadn't. The only member of his family that he saw the day of the Chosing Ceremony was his brother Rye. No one else. He wondered what it was like for them. To have him leave one day and not return for nearly half a year. Maybe they didn't care. But why wouldn't they? Their reactions when the peacekeepers returned him when they'd rescued him from Mya had been enough evidence to prove that they did, indeed, care about him.

Cato had tried to get them to 12 after the Games, he really had. There was always an excuse from the train station. _'There's a tree fallen on the tracks,'_ _'there's no trains to 12 today,' 'the workers are on strike,'_ the list was endless. Peeta had began to wonder whether the inability to get to 12 was the work of Snow, the president still wishing to punish him in any way possible.

Peeta hadn't realized how much he wanted to see his family until Harold told him he could see them. "Thank you," he said with genuine sincerity.

"Nothing is guranteed yet," Harold explained. "Mira might not be able to crunch the numbers right. But I can promise you one thing, you'll get to see that Madge girl again, since she's the Mayor's daughter and all. I know it's not much but it's the best that I can offer."

Peeta didn't have many memories of the time he'd spent with Madge Undersee but she was the only person who didn't look at him as if he was a different person after he was kidnapped by Mya. Everyone else stared at him as if they were trying to calculate what exactly happened to him and what Mya had done to him while Madge still gazed at him with a confused frown, as if she was trying recollect what his name was. It was this simple fact that made him befriend her.

Still, it would be nice to see her again as well.

"Well, I ain't no expert but I'd say that it would be a good idea to get some rest before the big big day tomorrow," Harold said. Before Peeta had a chance to react, he folded him into his arms for a quick hug. It lasted only a couple of seconds but Peeta felt how much the man put into it. It made him feel guilty that he couldn't recuperate that same enthusiasm or love, that he couldn't help Harold know what it felt like to be loved back. When he'd stepped back, Peeta noticed that Cato had gotten closer to them. The guilt intensified as he remembered how he had gotten lost in the fog of being loved by him and had lead him astray.

He sighed and smiled weakly at them both. "Goodnight," he said walking over to the bed and wordlessly sliding under the covers, leaving a space for Cato to get in too once Harold left.

Harold and Cato exchanged a worried look. The Capitol man sighed and shook his head, mouthing, _"Look after him,"_ to Cato. The career nodded.

_"Don't worry," _he mouthed back, _"I always will."_

_**A/N: Ooooh, the Quarter Quell has been moved up! And Peeta's sparked unrest in the districts over Ava's grandfather's Christmas bauble. Oh dear.**_

_**Please R&R with your thoughts! ^_^**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Sorry this took so long guys. The words just refused to come out onto the page but I finally got it! **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Seven

_Peeta_

District 12 hadn't changed. The coal was still grained into the ground, the air was still thick with dust, the sky overcast with grey clouds. Peeta felt a wave of nostalgia as he peered out the window of the Justice Building at his home. The usual crowd was beginning to gather in the square, after probably having been forced to attend by peacekeepers. 12 never celebrated the Victory Tour but were always forced to go because there had to be someone there for the Victor to say their speech to.

Peeta coule see the bakery across the way, nestled in a small corner, almost shrouded in the shadows. The familiar 'MELLARKS BAKERY' sign hung above the door, the paint chipped and peeling off. The sign on the door was turned to 'CLOSED' and, since the bakery never closed on week days, Peeta could only guess that his father and brothers were somewhere in the crowd to see Cato make his speech.

"So you'll say your speech which I have written for you, giving a mention to the fallen tributes of this District which are . . ." Mira's reflection in the window frowned as she tried to recollect the names. Peeta resisted the urge to scowl, continuing to stare blankly out into the square.

"Katniss and Gale," he said without emotion.

"Yes! That's it, Katniss and Gale," Mira said, not noticing the animosity in Peeta's voice towards her. "Neither were allies nor helpful towards your success Cato so you don't have to go on too long about them."

"I don't even know what I'd say for them," Cato said. "I didn't know either of them. And what do you mean 'not helpful towards my success'? Katniss sacrificed her life for me. That's something I'm never going to be able to give back to her! And I am the one who killed her. I'm going to have to go out there to face her family and say to their faces that I'm sorry for her death even though I'm the one who dragged the sword across her neck."

There were two giant screens set up near the back of the square where a video clip of Katniss and a video clip of Gale were projected up. The clips were only about five to ten seconds and all it was was them staring directly at the camera, blinking occasionally. Katniss was smiling, her braid hanging around her shoulder like it always did. She looked the exact same way as she always had, a hint of mischief in her eyes tinted with a determination and fire of some sort that expressed her desperation to protect everyone she loved. Even though she had betrayed him, Peeta no longer felt like she had comitted a horrendous act. Because, if she hadn't of handed him over to Cato on the choosing day last year, Peeta would never have met him. Would never have felt what it was like to be loved for who he was and learned what it was like to love someone himself. He would always owe Katniss for that, even if she had different intentions when she had exposed his secret to the entire District.

"Plus, I don't want to mess up," Cato said. "She was Peeta's best friend. She doesn't deserve a mess up. Neither does the Gale guy, I suppose."

"Just get out there," Mira said. Peeta finally tore his eyes away from Katniss' face and looked at Cato, who was holding his hand out to him. Peeta sighed and took his hand, letting him pull him to his feet. They went to the doors that lead out onto the building platform and waited. A voice outside-a voice Peeta recognized as Mayor Undersee-introduced them before two peacekeepers opened the doors for them. "Stand up straight!" Mira hissed as they walked out hand in hand.

As soon as they reached the microphone together, Peeta was glad that Cato had to do the talking, because there was no way he would have been able to handle it. In the time it took to get from the window to the doors, Katniss and Gale's families had been guided onto platforms that sat below the giant screens with their faces on them. Gale's mother, Hazelle, stood with her children clinging to her like magnets. Her daughter Posy clung to her, arms around her neck and face buried into her chest. Her son Vick was glued to her leg, hiding his face also from the rest of the world. Rory, now the oldest in the family, stood a couple of centimetres away from his mother, arms folded and eyes narrowed in anger. He was angry about his brother's death, of the injustice of it all, of how unfair everything in this country was but he wasn't going to cry and cling to his mum like his brother and sister, he was going to stand off in defiance, refusing to let the Hunger Games make him cry.

But it was Katniss' family that made him choke up the most. Mrs Everdeen, pale and frail as ever, stood with her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were closed and her eyebrows were bowing upwards in dispair. Katinss' baby sister Primrose, the little girl she had volunteered for, looked strangely older, almost reaching the height of her mother. Her hair was in two braids, just like the way her big sister's had been the first time Peeta had ever seen her when they were in preschool. Salt water glimmered in her eyes but didn't fall, instead making the blue in her eyes look undulating like water. Her lips were pressed into a thin, stubborn line, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she warded off the tears in her eyes.

Peeta couldn't hold eye contact with her.

"Thank you, District 12, for your hospitality towards myself and Peeta. Welcoming us into the arms of your District and the families of your fallen tributes," Cato started off by saying, reading off Mira's card. After saying this, he took the card and stuck it into his back pocket. Peeta looked at him in confusion, wondering what range of heart attack their escort was having right now. What was he doing? Didn't he say that he wouldn't know what to say about Katniss and Gale?

"Despite their courage, bravery and sacrifice, both Katniss and Gale were . . . so young," Cato continued. "But our lives aren't measured in years, they're measured in the lives we touch around us. And that is why both Peeta and I, knowing it will never make up for the lives of your children, would like to give one month of our winnings to the families of the fallen tributes once a year for the rest of our lives."

Peeta's jaw unhinged, his shock evident as he turned to look at Cato, completely stunned. Can you do that? It had never been done before, that much was obvious. Money like that . . . that could keep an entire family fed for a year in 12. That money would change their lives forever. It may not make the pain of their children's deaths go away but it would soften the blow for the many years to come. It is obvious on both families' faces that they too are surprised at the generous donation.

Cato looked at him and simply shrugged, taking his hand again and turning to walk back into the Justice Building. Peeta moved to follow him, looking back out at the sea of faces again, his eyes accidentally locking with Primrose's. She was staring at him hard, tears having dried up during Cato's speech, and seemed to be waiting on something.

_She's waiting on you, idiot!_

She wanted him to say something. Katniss had been his friend and here he was, standing around and letting Cato talk about her and Gale. But that was because Cato was the victor, he was the one who suffered through the Games. Peeta wouldn't feel right walking up to the microphone and talking as if he understood what they had went through. Because he didn't. He spent the weeks they were in the Games playing mind Games with President Snow and Harold.

But Katniss was his best friend. Now she was dead. He had to say _something._

Cato looked at him in concern when he dropped his hand and went to the microphone. He tapped it hesitantly, flinching when the thump of his fingertips rang out across the deadly silent square. "I didn't know Gale," he said to Hazelle and her kids, "and I had never been inclined to ever speak to him. But he cared for Katniss and she cared for him, that meant the world to me. I suppose I should have thanked him for loving my best friend and letting her fall for him as well but I didn't. And I'll probably regret that for the rest of my life."

He didn't dare look at Hazelle for too long, scared that she wasn't happy with him talking about her son, so he quickly looked over at Mrs Everdeen and Prim, the two girls who he had met on countless occasions when he had been with Katniss. Never had he ever thought that he would be standing here on a Victory Tour stage, looking across at them as they stood below a clip of their dead daughter who was killed in the Hunger Games . . . by his boyfriend.

"But I did know Katniss," he said. "She was my best friend. We'd been joint at the hip since we were children. Her desire to keep her family safe and fed always inspired me, I still wish, even now, that I could be like that. The last time I spoke to her . . . it was the morning of the Choosing day. Even then, the thing always at the front of her mind was her family. Which is why she handed me over to Cato. To get the money to feed her sister and mother.

"If it hadn't of been for her, I would never have met Cato. And if it hadn't of been for her, Cato mightn't even be standing here with me. She could have shot him but instead she chose to die. I'd never have thought that I'd be put in the position to root between the man I love and my best friend and I didn't want either of them to die. I just wish . . . there had have been a way for the both of them to live . . . it just wasn't fair . . . I'm sorry."

There was a thick silence and Peeta felt a lump grow in his throat. He tried to swallow it but it just came back up, threatening to make him throw up on the stage. He forced it down, trying to hide the tremble in his hands from the nerves of having to speak out in front of everyone about such a sensitive issue. The crowd seemed to stare blankly at him for a moment, Prim now standing holding her mother's hand who was crying again. Cato came up behind him and took his hand when he wasn't looking. After he had discovered the truth, Peeta had recoiled away from him for the weeks after that but he didn't want to let go of his hand this time. He was too emotionally charged to let go of Cato's hand.

And then something happened.

Something wonderful.

An old man-someone he didn't know but had seen around the streets sometimes-kissed the fingertips of his left hand and raised it out to him. It was a salute in District 12, normally used at funerals. It's a sign of respect, a means of saying goodbye to your loved ones. It was the highest form of admiration that could be given in 12. Peeta was touched that he had saluted him but the feeling only lasted a millisecond.

_It just wasn't fair . . . I'm sorry._

Words of defiance.

Defiance against the Capitol.

Peeta watched with horror as everyone else followed the man in his salute, kissing the fingers of their left hand and holding it out to him and Cato. Hazelle, Vick, Rory, even little Posy. Prim and Mrs Everdeen. Then his eyes locked on six pairs of blue eyes near Katniss' podium. Three heads of scruffy yellow hair, one of them gelled up in a ridiculous attempt at looking cool. His family. His father, Wheat and Rye. All three saluting him as well.

That's when the peacekeepers took action.

Cato's hand tightened its grip on his when four peacekeepers who had been standing at the front of the stage took their batons out of their holsters and started pushing through the crowd. Peeta took a step forward but Cato pulled him back. When the peacekeepers reached the man who did the slaute first, they grabbed him and started pulling him forward. Wrenching his hand away from Cato, Peeta ran down the steps and and tried to through to them. A different peacekeeper grabbed his arm and started pulling him back, only barely able to drag him back against his struggles.

Cato had already been brought back into the building but Peeta refused to, managing to elbow the man in the face and wrench himself out of his grasp. They were dragging the man up onto the platform, forcing him to his knees. The peacekeeper was at the end of his tether, giving Peeta an almighty shove into the Justice Building. He fell onto his knees but in the adrenalin of the moment, he jumped to his feet and spun around.

Just in time to see them send the bullet through the man's head.

"No!" he screamed, making a run for the door. Cato grabbed him before he could get out again, lifting him off his feet. Peeta screamed at him and struggled, kicking out at him, trying to get him to let go. "They shot him!"

"Peeta, calm down!" Cato yelled.

Peeta refused, trying to hit him as much as he could until he let go. Which, of course, didn't happen because Cato was so much stronger than him. He vaguely registered Enobaria saying that they had to go upstairs but he didn't react, he just kept yelling and hitting at Cato. They killed a man! They killed him and it was his fault! Cato started dragging him up the stairs, eventually having enough of his struggles and throwing him over his shoulder.

They went into a room at the end of the first floor which resembled a bedroom of some sort. Cato had to pin him to the bed until he calmed down. By this point he was crying, ugly sobs escaping his throat. "They k-killed him!" he said. "Why would they do that!"

Cato shushed him gently, stroking his wet cheek with his thumb. "Sssh, calm down," he soothed.

"They shot him for s-saluting! Why? Oh my god, it's my fault!"

"No, it's not, just-just calm down," Cato pleaded desperately.

Unable to get the image of the bullet going into the man's brain out of his head, Peeta screamed even harder, barely even registering the fact that Cato was there at all. Eventually Enobaria came back in with a needle filled of clear liquid. The sight of it didn't help and he struggled get out of from underneath Cato. He couldn't even breathe but he somehow managed to continue to scream anyhow.

"Peeta! Peeta, you need to calm down. Enobaria is just going to sedate you," Cato whispered. When that didn't work, he stopped talking and just roughly shoved his jacket sleeve up his arm, holding it out for Enobaria to stick the needle in. With one hand now free, Peeta screamed and beat his back with his fist, trying to get his arm out of his grasp. He didn't trust what Enobaria was giving him. For a second, he could swear that Cato was crying but he didn't focus on it. He was too worked up. Too frightened over why the man was killed over something that should have just seemed like a silly salute.

There was a sharp pain in the crook of his elbow before a form of drowisness washed over him. He became too tired to scream, too tired to hit Cato anymore, too tired to do anything but fall back against the bed and let the sedative pull him under. "Mya told me something," he vaguely heard Cato saying to Enobaria. "He's become an image of some sort. For uprisings in the Districts. I think they shot that man because . . . because it's not going to help quell it."

Image? Him? Uprisings? Quell?

The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was Cato saying the word _Mockingjay._

~xXx~

"Peeta! Peeta baby, wake up!"

Peeta groaned, welding his eyes shut and warding off the headache that was burning its way into his mind now that he was waking up. He tried to bat the person away with his hand but whoever it was had a hold of his biceps, preventing any moment other than standing there.

"Peeta, it's Cato, you have to wake up now!"

For a second he was relieved to hear the sound of Cato's voice but then he remembered that he was supposed to be mad with him still. "Cato, leave me alone, I'm tired," he muttered.

"Pull yourself together and wake up! We have to out in the party in five minutes!" Cato insisted. Peeta frowned, momenatrily confused before everything came back to him. The speeches, his family, the salute, the man, the peacekeepers, the images, everything. His eyes shot open and he took a light head, nearly crumpling to the floor. Cato tightened his hold on his arms and kept him held upright.

"Party?" Peeta asked.

"With Mayor Undersee? Remember? It's required to attend a feast at every district. And I know we should have gotten you up sooner but it took an increased dose of morphling to get you under so just please, just relax and try to pull yourself together," Cato explained. "I dressed you in the outfit Mira left out for you I just need you to open your eyes and stand on your own."

Peeta forced his eyes open, blinking back the sleep that blurred his vision. Cato slowly slid into view, wearing a very fitting black suit with a matching tie. Still exhausted and still unable to form a single cohearant thought, Peeta smiled sheepishly at him. Cato smiled back, loosening the grip on his arms. "There you go," he said gently, cupping his cheek and letting him nestle his head into it. "Do you think you could stand up straight without me holding on?"

Peeta nodded, eyes drooping closed again.

"Okay, maybe we shouldn't go to this party at all . . ."

"Hmmf? No, I'm okay," Peeta insisted, opening his eyes again. "Let go."

Cato nodded and slowly released his arms. Peeta wavered slightly on his feet but managed to steady himself. "You have no idea how thankful I am to see your eyes again," Cato said, brushing his hair back. "You were so limp when I was getting you ready I couldn't help thinking Enobaria might have overdosed you. If it wasn't for your pulse beating in your neck I would have thought you had died."

"I'm not dead," Peeta assured him weakly. "B-But you do have some explaining to do . . . Later. When we're back on the train."

Cato nodded. "Yeah, I know. Let's just get through this first, okay?"

They smiled and laughed through their way through the feast in the Justice Building. Well, if it could be called a feast, anyway. It was the best feast District 12 could pull together. They managed to pull together two courses and a dessert. Being from 2, Peeta had worried that Cato would cringe at the watery soup and chewy meat from Rhooba's but he didn't. He ate it all with an easy smile and even complimented the chef, which meant the world to them.

Peeta and Cato had gotten seperated at one point and Peeta found himself standing by a table with a bowl of strawberries on it. He still felt heavy and tired from the sedative but he knew he had to hold out until they got back on the train. If they _were_ getting onto the train that was. He still didn't know if Mira had been able to crunch the numbers so he could stay overnight with his family. Although, after what happened earlier with the old man and the salute, a small part of Peeta knew that he wasn't going to see his family at all.

"Hello Peeta."

He turned to find that Madge Undersee had materilzed beside him. In her spotless white dress that she always wore on the reaping day and her hair piled up into a set of careless curls, she never looked better. She picked a strawberry out of the bowl but didn't eat it, instead picking at the leaves at the top of the berry. She looked at him and smiled.

"Hello Madge," Peeta replied.

"How have you been?" she asked.

"I've been good," Peeta replied. "How have you been?"

Madge shrugged. "What does it matter how I've been, I hardly matter. The real question is, do you really understand what you've started here?"

Peeta frowned, his eyes fascinated by the way her thin, nimble fingers worked on the strawberry leaves. "What do you mean what I've started?" he asked.

The blonde shrugged. "I suppose you don't know yet. The entire country saw you piggy back that girl by the tree. To help her get that decoration up? It turns out the Capitol broadcast CCTV footage of District 2 to other Districts because it's the 'model district' or whatever. Anyone with a t.v on at that moment say you defy all the rules and put a Mockingjay amongst the branches. It's riled them all up. If a boy of 12 origin can defy the Capitol, what can stop them?"

"But it was just-it was just a decoration," Peeta stuttered.

Madge looked at him, her blue eyes full of pity, and she sighed. "You've been abused by the Capitol. To the Districts, you're sending a message. 'You don't own me. I am my own. I am not a piece in your games, I am not your puppet.' You may not have intended it but its happened. That's why they killed Morrisory, the man who saluted you. It was chucking fuel on the fire. The Capitol doesn't need any more fuel."

"Fuel?"

Madge turned around and pulled him down so his face was level with hers. "You have provided a spark. A spark that, if left unattended, is going to cause an inferno that's going to destroy all of Panem. There's an uprising in District 8, I've seen it on my father's t.v. You have two choices here, Peeta. A) Think of a way to contain it or B) Don't control it and be the face of the revolution that this country has needed so desperately." A peacekeeper passed them and Madge stepped back, plastering a smile on her face. "It was good to see you again, Peeta."

She left Peeta completely flabberghasted, his heart pounding against his ribcage in a frenzy. Uprising in District 8? Because of what _he_ did? He tried not look too horrified because of the cameras that were everywhere but on the inside he was dying. He hadn't thought of any of those things Madge described when he had pulled Ava up onto his shoulders to help her get her grandfather's bauble up. He didn't think of uprisings or revolution or pieces in Games when he did that. Why had the other Districts looked into it so much?

His thoughts were interuppted when he saw a plate of cupcakes sitting near the strawberries. They were in cake cases dipped into food colouring to give them a multitude of colours. The icing was swirled with a colour opposite to that of its casing. An idea he had came up with when he was only eight years old. He had suggested it to his mother but she had laughed and told him to stop being ridiculous, that it was a stupid idea. Peeta picked up a blue cased cake with green icing. He recognized the style of icing. The flick at the top, it could only belong to one person's hand.

His father's.

"Hello son."

Peeta turned around and came face to face with his dad. He hadn't changed a bit. Same tired blue eyes, same scruffy blond hair, same smile. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. Smile? Laugh? Cry? Beg for forgiveness for leaving without telling him? In the end, he didn't have to react, his father did it first. He pulled him into a hug so tight he felt like his insides were going to pop.

"You scared me to death," Mr. Mellark muttered.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Peeta said, unsure of himself after having spent so long without seeing his dad. Why had he scared him? What he done exactly?

"Your brothers were late to the choosing ceremony and they didn't see what had happened. That boy from 2 had already gone with you by the time they'd gotten there. Katniss wouldn't even tell them, pretended she didn't know what had happened. I thought . . . we thought . . . that that vile woman had somehow escaped and had taken you again," his dad explained, his voice broke on the last sentence.

Peeta felt his heart sink. Oh god, he never considered that they might have thought that Mya had taken him again. "You used my cupcake idea," he blurted out. His dad chuckled and stepped back to admire the cupcakes as well.

"Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "It was stroke of genius. It was what we did last year when you had . . . disappeared for that week. It was the only way we felt close to you, somehow. We've been doing it for the past six months. All the Merchants started a campaign to get you back, saying that it wasn't fair what the Capitol were doing . . . every one of your cupcakes we sold, the money was gathered together and put aside. Of course, in the end it was rejected but your brothers kept it going. They were determined, I'll give you that."

Peeta was shocked. It had always thought that his brothers had always more been on his mother's side and had always held a special sort of animosty towards him for putting her into jail. But they really had actually cared about him. "Are they here?" he asked.

His dad nodded. "They are."

And then, as if by magic, he was being crushed in both his brother's arms. He felt himself turning purple and when he tried to breathe, he couldn't, but they wouldn't let go. "Guys," he wheezed. "Guys, I can't breathe."

"Peeta, you little shit!" Rye exclaimed. He wrapped his arm around his neck and yanked him down into a headlock. "You scared the crap out of us!" Rye was only two years older than him but still held the advantage when it came to strength and ability to keep him in a headlock. Six months ago, his brother grabbing him in a headlock would have pissed him off but now it only made him nostalgic.

"Rye, don't use that kind of language," their father sighed. "And let your brother go."

When he let him go, Rye pulled him back into a one armed hug. "Seriously Peet, only you could manage to get kinapped two years in a row. Christ, I really thought we'd lost you this time."

"Of course, there was all the publicity," Wheat pointed out, being the voice of reason. "But that still meant nothing." When Rye let him go, Wheat took his turn and hugged him, slightly gentler.

"Never, and I mean_ never_, do that to us again," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," Peeta said. Because he meant it. He couldn't possibly imagine what his family had been going through while he had been away with Cato. Wheat was right, there had been the publicity, but what had been the first thing that had been released about his relationship with Cato? An intense kissing session behind a pillar that everyone thought the career had been doing against his will? After having not seen him for a week and that was the first they see of him?

"You never said you were bent," Rye said.

"Ryean Mellark!" his father exclaimed.

"What?" Rye asked, surprised. "He didn't!"

"That's because I wasn't," Peeta explained, not as offended as his father probably thought he was. "Until I met Cato."

"And Harold," Rye pointed out. Oh . . . right . . . they didn't know that that wasn't real. "Jeez Peet, I didn't think you'd be such a player, even if it is in a completely different pool of gender. Not that I have a problem with it, I mean, I'll wave a multi coloured flag for you if I have to but-"

"Rye," Wheat said, "stop before you hurt yourself."

Rye nodded. "Okay, yeah. Sure."

"Madge came to our door three days after you'd disappeared in panic. She told us she saw the papers explaining what pretences Mr Hadley had taken you under. She said he'd taken you to be a practice tribute," Wheat said in a low voice. "He didn't hurt you, did he? Because if he did, I'll kill him right here at this party."

Peeta quickly shook his head. "No, he didn't hurt me," he said.

"You're not lying to me are you?"

"No, I promise I'm not."

Wheat nodded. His eyes fell upon the glass cane he was leaning against. "Whoa, what's up with the bling?" he asked.

"Uh . . . my other one broke."

Rye laughed. "You mean the one with that ridiculous diamond ontop of it? The Capitol is so weird, I swear I'll never understand it."

Peeta shrugged. "I spent weeks there and I still don't think I understand it either," he said.

"I brought this . . . for you," his dad said. He handed him a box. "I didn't know whether you were still having trouble sleeping or not and you never got to get this once you'd been chosen."

Peeta looked at the box and almost laughed when he saw the word PARZOSIN written across it in capital letters. His dad was right. He hadn't had a chance to collect his medication when Cato had taken him but now he was on stronger stuff from the Capitol, stuff that could keep him asleep for hours. It didn't let him wake up though, which was the worst part about it, especially since his nightmares had gotten more intense since Cato had returned.

"How are the nightmares?" his father questioned.

Peeta shrugged. "Alright," he answered. "I . . . Mya was in the Capitol."

"WHAT?!" The three Mellarks asked at once. Peeta winced and looked around, thankful that no one noticed.

"Yeah. President Snow made her the avox for Cato's floor in the training center in the Capitol," he explained. "She can't speak anymore but she communicates through a whiteboard because apparently the President is petted on her or something and that's why he let her be able to communitcate at all."

"And Mum? What about her?" Wheat asked.

Peeta looked at his feet. "No, she's definitely . . . she's definitely dead."

"Good," Rye surprised him by saying. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. The bitch can burn in hell."

"Rye, I know what your mother did was inexcusable but please don't talk like that," their father pleaded.

Rye looked at his dad incredulously. "What? That's where she is right now. Underneath our feet right this minute. There's no point in pretending that she isn't, like she deserves to have some leaniance. I can swear about her all I damn well want to."

"Rye, it's okay," Peeta said.

"No, it's really not," Rye muttered, folding his arms.

It was then that Cato decided to come over, which Peeta was thankful for, he wasn't sure how much angrier his brother was going to get and the presence of his partner might hopefully provide a distraction. "Okay," Wheat said. "I've got one request for you Mr. Hadley, is that okay?"

Cato quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah," he replied.

"If you're going to take my brother again, at least give us a warning, yeah?"

Cato smiled. "Of course," he answered.

Wheat smiled back. He held out his hand. "Wheat Mellark, nice to finally meet you Mr. Hadley."

Cato shook his hand. "Nice to meet you too Wheat. And just call me Cato. The 'Mr' makes me sound too old."

"I'm Ryean but most people call me Rye. Which technically means you have to call me Rye or I will kill you," Rye explained. He shook Cato's hand as well, which was rare since Peeta knew that his brother was very reserved over who he trusted enough to let shake his hand ever since the whole Mya thing had happened.

"And this is my dad," Peeta said, gesturing to his father somewhat hesitantly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Mellark, I've heard a lot about you and your family," Cato said, shaking his dad's hand warmly. Had he heard a lot about his father and his family? Had he told him about them? Or maybe he was just being polite by telling them that.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you too Cato," Mr. Mellark said. "Thank you for . . . for looking after my son."

Cato smiled again, this time the gesture weighted down with a tint of sadness. "I'll always look after him," he said. Mr. Mellark nodded, looking slighty relieved. "I'm sorry to come and go but Mira says we have to get back to the train station now, Peeta."

It became suddenly obvious that Mira had not been able to crunch the numbers.

Peeta felt his heart sink but he nodded his understanding. He hugged Wheat, who scruffed his hair and said, "Remember what I said, buddy. If he does anything to hurt you, just tell me and I'll kick his ass." Peeta chuckled and nodded.

"And I've still got the rainbow flag on hand," Rye added, joining the hug so Peeta was smushed between them. "Tell your other boyfriend I said hi."

"Okay."

Peeta hugged his dad the longest, suddenly not wanting to leave him behind. He didn't want to leave any of them behind. Not again. But he _had _to. "I love you son," Mr. Mellark muttered. Peeta nodded, fighting back tears. God, he didn't expect this to be so hard.

"Love you dad."

When he pulled away, Cato took his hand and they started walking away. Peeta discreetly wiped his eyes when Cato wasn't looked as to not give away that he was on the verge of crying. He'd probably start asking him why he was crying, if he was alright etc. etc. "Peeta!" He turned back around and saw his dad standing exactly where he was. The next thing he said stuck with him all the way to the train station.

"Remember who the real enemy is."

_**A/N: Once again, sorry for the delay, I still hope this chapter was worth it though!**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Sorry for the wait, I took a Christmas hiatus! Happy Holidays! If you do that sort of thing anyway! Here's chapter eight! ^_^**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Eight

When he was a child, he used to work by his window.

There was something about looking outside, at the bright blue or heavy grey of the seemingly endless sky that put him at ease. That made him fee like his future hadn't been set in stone, that he would travel farther than the bakery. When he was around eight years old, his mother had told him that he was going to take over their store and that's where he'd work, no excuses. Of course, behind her back, his father contradicted this, saying that they'd support him even if he just wanted to migrate next door to the butcher's to work. But, knowing that he wanted nothing more than to become an artist, his dad bought him the best sketchpads he could and paid Katniss' father good money to build him a desk.

When Mr Everdeen passed away, Katniss came to the back door of the bakery with what he had gotten done, insisting that she give back a quarter of the money since the job didn't get done. His father didn't let her, accepting the desk the way it was and finishing the job off himself. He then helped Peeta push it up against his bedroom window, so he could forever work there between shifts, escaping into his own world to be as free as he liked. Free to work in the bakery or move next door to Rhoba's, to the land where everything was possible.

To the land his mother had him convinced didn't exist.

Somehow, Peeta guessed, he should have been able to tell that something was going to happen. Like the calm before the storm. His mother was unusually nice the weeks leading up to his kidnapping. Not to him, no, but to his brothers and customers who came to the store. Even if the kindness wasn't directly pointed at him, it was kindness none the less and even seeing his mother smile was enough to brighten his world. He had thought maybe things were changing.

But then his mother broke the desk.

It was never proven to be her work but Peeta recognized the imprint of her heels. She had kicked it to pieces and left nothing but the debris in his bedroom. When confronted, she had laughed and said it had probably been the work of termites that festered on cheap seam wood. His father and brothers had accepted this as a satisfying explanation, not having noticed the mark of her dirty heeled boots.

The window in his bedroom on the train reminded him of the window in his room at home. Only at pitt stops, when the sky was still and there were no trees passing by. All he ever seemed to do nowadays was sit and look out the window, feeling like a bird trapped in a cage. He only spoke when a camera was on him, the thick silence of afterward crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. But what was their to say? He couldn't think straight at all anymore.

What was the point in doing anything? All he ever seemed to do was mess things up. His mother had always told him he was a screw up, now he was a screw up on international levels. He was responsible for the death of a man. A man who had just wanted to show respect for the fallen tributes of his District. He hadn't meant defiance, he had meant adoration. But the peacekeepers didn't see it that way and now there was a bullet in his brain. Peeta had decided to just keep his mouth shut.

Cato would sit with him sometimes. One hour it would be him, the next it would be Harold. Both of them forever trying to coax him into a conversation, only to be left with the judging quiet as response. Peeta knew they were worried but he couldn't think properly to spare the second to open his mouth and reassure them. Not anymore. Not when he was doomed to forever be trapped in the confines of a triangle for the rest of his life. Not when his future was now set infront of him, just like his mother had always said it would be. Not when his father's assurances had been reduced to dust. Because the reality of it was this; he would never have went next door to work in Rhoba's butcher shop. Because it was never an option. It was just a form of pitiful comfort.

It was around District 7 when he started experimenting with drugs. Not illegal drugs, no, just mixing the Capitol medication with the parzosin his father gave him in 12. It never ended well but he kept doing it. There was something elevating about being able to control what sort of medicine he took, finally something in his life he could control, no matter what the results turned out like. Most of the time, the meds would be so strong they would trap him in his nightmares, refusing to let him wake up, like someone was holding his head under water, preventing escape. Truth was, there really was no escape. Because when he woke up, he was still in a nightmare.

Harold had changed.

Peeta hadn't noticed at first but it was the little things that made the realization dawn on him that the Capitol man wasn't what he used to be. There wasn't any sexual innuendos anymore, no more inappropriate touching or scary threats. There was just a gentle man who wanted someone to care for. Wanted to care for _him._ Peeta didn't think he needed someone to care for him, because he hadn't realized just how boneless he had become. He hadn't noticed that Cato had to coax him out of his chair on the train to take a shower or go to sleep. He hadn't noticed that Harold had started dropping nutriton tablets into his water because he'd stopped eating. He hadn't noticed the desperate kisses Cato would press all over his face, pleading with him to come back, to say something at least. All he could see was the sky outside the window and the life he'd never live.

He had turned into Mrs Everdeen.

Katniss' mother had went into a deep depression after her husband had died, not responding to her children or anyone else. She'd just sit there, staring into the distance. Peeta hadn't been able to understand how he could just dump everything like that but now he could. You didn't just sit there thinking of nothing, you sat there thinking of the things that could have been. Mrs Everdeen thought of the times she would have had with her husband, the laughs he would have caused, the times he would have swept her off her feet, times that were never going to be had. Peeta understood now. Because he was living it. He did not want to cause anymore deaths, so he kept his mouth shut.

Peeta supposed he was being cruel, not speaking to Cato or Harold, when they were trying so hard to look after him. But if he said something to them, it would very likely be the wrong thing. So he didn't try.

"Come on, baby, talk to me," Cato murmured on the way to District 5, wetting a wash cloth and rubbing it gently over his still injured nose to get the make-up off. Harold had explained to them President Snow's whole 'bad boy' image thing but with the unsettlement in the Districts, seeing a bruise on Peeta's face was not going to help. "Please?"

_Will the stylists ever run out of body polish? _Peeta thought mindlessly to himself. He was almost dropping off to sleep, his experimental meds taking a toll on him. Cato didn't know that he was mixing his parzosin with the Capitol stuff and he intended for it to stay that way. He was worrying about him like a mother hen would do with her chicks enough as it was. Peeta couldn't bare anymore clucking, even if he was only aware of it for half the time.

"You're always so tired," Cato muttered. "I think I might have to get Harold to call for a doctor to give you a check over, see if everything's okay." Would a doctor be able to tell that he'd been mixing drugs to help him through the night? Peeta blinked and stared at him blankly. "The nightmares have been getting worse too, maybe it's connected?" Peeta continued to stare, not knowing what to say. Of course, he knew it was connected but he wasn't going to tell Cato this because he knew he would freak out about the meds thing.

When he remained silent, Cato sighed and let him get to having a shower, leaving the room to let him have some privacy. Peeta stripped and got into the small cubicle that was provided in their en suite bathroom. The water was warm and felt comforting against his skin. Back home, in 12, the water was always cold. If you wanted it warm, you had to boil it over the stove. It was nice to have the warmth at the push of a button. To have a variety of soaps and gels at his fingertips, even if he didn't use half of them.

When he got out, he immediately noticed that there were no towels. Eyes wide in panic, he frantically searched all the cabinets and cupboards and cubby holes he could find. No luck. He'd have to go out into the bedroom. Normally, this wouldn't be as much of a problem, maybe get teased by Cato for a bit before grabbing a towel and getting dressed. But things had been so rocky between himself and Cato that he was no longer comfortable being naked in front of him. It was like their relationship had been thrown back to base one. Everything was new again.

He opened the door the crack and peered out. The room was empty. Cato must have been in the sitting room or something. Thank goodness, maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he'd first thought. He could go to the bed, cover himself up and then go in search of some towels. He cautiously stepped out, slowly moving away from the door and going out into the open. He was only half way across the room when the door opened again and Cato came back in.

It wasn't just Peeta who had noticed the sudden lack of 'sexual' intimacy in their relationship since the whole practice tribute thing, Cato had also taken note of it and he missed it very much. He missed being close to him in that way, in the way where they were both stripped down to their most raw selves, where nothing could be hidden and nothing could be kept from each other. He missed his lover's body, the way he moved, would blush, would moan and cry, the way he would bite his lip when he came. But most of all, he missed his voice.

And now here he was, standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, naked as the day he was born, glistening and dripping wet.

Cato put all his focus into staring into Peeta's eyes, nowhere else. The sight of him there reminded the career that there hadn't been any towels in the bathroom. It seemed that the shock of being caught had caused him to freeze, unsure of whether to run back to the bathroom or make a grab for the duvet on the bed. He was beautiful, soaking wet and blinking in embarrassment and fear. His eyes reflected back the thing he seemed desperate to make clear, _"There weren't any towels, I didn't decide to just parade around with no clothes on."_ It made Cato smile.

Jerked out of his frozen stupor, Peeta lurched forward and grabbed the blanket on top of the duvet, pulling it off the bed and wrapping it around himself. It barely covered him, his legs and arms and most of his back still left bare. Cato kept his eyes locked on his boyfriend's baby blues, not wishing to make him feel uncomfortable. It was difficult, he'd be the first to admit. Because he wanted to do nothing but admire him. It had been so long.

Peeta ran back into the bathroom in a flurry of red silk blanket and pale as porcelin skin. Cato blinked, wondering if he had imagined what had just happened. Maybe because their sex life was pretty much none existant at the moment he was conjuring up images of Peeta naked in his head? No, that was ridiculous . . . right? He had never had a vivid imagination and yet he could still remember every curve and cut of his body as he had stood before him moments ago. But then again, that meant nothing. He may not have had a vivid imagaintion in general but when it came to Peeta, he remembered everything.

He couldn't forget a thing. It had been like this ever since he had decided that he couldn't kill him. When he had smiled at him in his sleep. The way his lips quirked upwards ever so slightly, the two dimples that would appear in his cheeks, the way he licked his lips before turning over, it had all been permanantly engraved in his mind so that he couldn't forget it. It had gotten worse since time progressed, every little cute quirk and detail would take a permanant seat in his brain, never leaving ever again.

Of course, Cato didn't mind. Especially now when Peeta was obviously going through some inner termoil. The way he would stare at him blankly, like he wasn't all there, make him wonder what was going on inside his head. Was he sane? Fighting with himself? Screaming on the inside for someone to hear him on the outside?

The last person Peeta had had a civilised conversation with before he went blank was his father. It didn't seem like his dad nor his brothers had said anything too horrifying that would make him turn into what he was now . . . except for that last thing Mr Mellark said.

_Remember who the real enemy is._

What did he mean by that? Cato still couldn't figure it out but it must have had some sort of effect on Peeta since he wasn't talking no more ever since his dad had said that to him. Did he understand what he had meant? Or was he just confused? Either way, Cato missed hearing the sound of his voice in reality, not just in his head.

When Peeta re-emerged from the bathroom, he was dry and dressed, the blanket draped over his shoulders like a fashion statement. Cato smiled, he was so beautiful. Even just in the way he would carry himself: timid with a touch of shyness. The bruises on his wirsts were thankfully almost completely gone by now but the scars on his ankles didn't show any signs of leaving. And his nose just looked so painful. Even now, a week later, it was still swollen and deeply bruised. Peeta wasn't one to complain-especially in his state of silence-but he'd wince when he'd sneeze and he'd whimper when he'd have to use a tissue.

To make matters worse, Harold informed them that there had been sudden enquires in the Capitol over the true story behind Peeta's cane and why he had it. What had been his accident and such. Could they not just keep their fat noses out of other people's private lives? Cato wanted to draw a line but even if he did, he knew the Capitol wouldn't even notice it, walking on by it and pushing that little bit further for information.

He sat beside Peeta on the bed and took his hand. The boy looked at him with the same blank expression, only his eyes and cheeks betrayed him with their pink tint and glisten of embarrassment. "You don't have to talk to me," he said to him. "I just want to know if you're alright. Even just a nod or a smile would mean the world to me." He cupped his pink stained cheek and pressed their foreheads together. "I miss you."

No response.

"I won't force you into saying or doing anything until you're ready but never forget that I love you, okay?" Cato pressed a kiss against his boyfriend's mouth, softly wrapping his lips around the cubid bow of Peeta's top lip, before pulling away with a smile. The younger's eyes were closed and before he could process it, he'd fallen against him, fast asleep. This had been happening a lot lately. Peeta would fall asleep randomly, not waking up for hours on end, even when going through a nightmare. Cradling his sleeping head against his chest, Cato reached out and took the phone that sat by the bed off the hook. "Hey, Harold," he whispered once he'd dialled the number, "is there a doctor on this train?"

There wasn't. But Harold came up to the room anyway, keen to find out what was wrong. "Still not talking?" he asked once they'd gotten the sleeping boy into bed.

"Nope," Cato sighed. "But he'd just drop off randomly. I can't even wake him up. I think he might be overdoing it with his pills but I don't know." Harold opened up Peeta's bedside table, rummanging inside for where he kept his pills.

"How many is he supposed to take?" Harold asked, pulling out the day of the week pill container.

"Two in the morning and three at night," Cato explained, pulling some towels out of the store room and bringing them into the bathroom. "So five in total. Same as me. Why?" When he turned back around, Harold's face was horrified. Held out in his palm was the five Capitol tablets for tomorrow with two extra pills he didn't recognize.

~xXx~

"Why would you do that?" Cato demanded to know. He held the two extra pills in front of Peeta's eyes, so close that the baby blues crossed. "You could have killed yourself!" Peeta shrugged, not knowing how else he could answer. If he told Cato that truth about why he was overdosing then he wouldn't understand, saying that he could help him get through the nights himself. Which was sweet but pointless. No one could help him get through the nights _except_ for the extra pills keeping him under.

"It was a very stupid thing to do," Harold said. "Do you know how dangerous it is to OD on meds? Cato's right, you could have died." Peeta narrowed his eyes skeptically. Did he just say that Cato was _right?_ Were they seriously ganging up on him about this? It wasn't even that big a deal anyway. Just two extra pills a night to help him sleep.

"What are these anyway?" Cato asked. Peeta stared back him. He still didn't wish to talk to either of them. Why would he? Since he always seemed to mess things up anyway.

"They look like parzosin. Where'd you get parzosin from, Peeta?" Harold asked. Peeta refused to answer him either, ducking his head between his knees and staring at the floor. "This silence thing has gone on long enough. You're just being childish now. You can't blot us out forever, you know. You're going to have to speak one way or another."

"Baby please," Cato pleaded. "We just want to help."

"How can _you _help?" Peeta asked, his voice dry from disuse. Harold went to the intercom and asked for water, which immediately appeared as if by magic. Stupid Capitol technology. "What can _you_ do to stop all this?" Harold handed him the glass and he downed the water in one go. It soothed his dry throat and improved his voice greatly.

"All what?" Cato asked gently.

"This! I don't want to be an image for anything!" Peeta replied. "I didn't mean to start uprisings! And you kept the truth about it away from me, I had to find out from Madge! How many more secrets do you have Cato?! Huh? How many?!"

"We're talking!" Harold said, sounding upbeat. "This is a start! We're talking, this is good." Peeta sat up and tried to take a swing at Cato, only prevented from it when Harold wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him away. "Wow, easy tiger, watch yourself there. Might hurt someone."

"You said to Enobaria that I'd become an image for uprisings in the districts! That they shot the man because it wasn't going to help quell it! How long did you know that? How long have you refused to tell me about it? Maybe if I had of known I wouldn't have went out there and said what I did! And now that man's dead!" Peeta yelled at him, trying to yank himself free of Harold's iron grip on him. "Let go of me!"

"No can-do," Harold replied, contradicting the order and holding him tighter. Peeta wasn't even sure where all this rage was coming from. It was like he had been smothering it with his silence, letting it boil under the surface until someone said something that made him crack like an egg. How much_ was_ Cato planning to keep from him anyway? Who gave him the right to decide what he should or shouldn't know?

"I didn't keep it from you," Cato insisted. "I was just wanting for the right time to tell you. I was going to tell you when we got back on the train in 12 but you turned into a vegetable! Do you know how goddamn scared you made me?"

"Oh wow, I don't talk for a couple of days and all of a sudden it's a big thing!" Peeta yelled angrily. He slapped Harold's hands and tried to pry them off him but he was too strong. "I don't even feel like I know you anymore Cato!"

"Maybe I should stay with him tonight Cato?" Harold suggested. "Until he calms down? I don't think you're going to get much farther without him trying to tear you apart."

"I don't need looked after!" Peeta spat at him. "What if I want a night alone, huh? Did you two ever consider that?"

"You're certainly not getting a night alone now," Harold answered. "Now that we know you've been overdosing yourself! You're not getting a night alone for a very long time now."

_**Later:**_

Harold held the three tablets out in his palm and opened his mouth, an indicator for Peeta to do the same. Rolling his eyes, the younger boy complied, opening his mouth and letting him drop the meds onto his tongue himself. They didn't trust him anymore to take the right medicine. It wasn't like he was going to kill himself! He knew what he was doing, he was controlling it just fine himself.

Cato wasn't there anymore. He was in Harold's room while they stayed in his for the night. Harold had claimed it was for the best, since Peeta was obviously very angry with him. It wasn't that he was angry with him, _per say_, he was just annoyed that he had kept something from him again. _Again!_ How could he?

"Water." Harold handed him a glass of water, watching over him carefully while he swallowed the Capitol tablets without the parzosin. "You know, if you want independence, you really need to quit it with the stupid decisions. We'll give you independence when you prove that you're going to use it wisely. Why did you do that, huh?"

Peeta peered at him over the rim of the glass. "I was experimenting," he muttered.

"And how did it go for you then?"

How did it go? He was trapped in his own living hell. Like every night a pillow was being placed over his face as he fell asleep, smothering him in his nightmares. The parzosin pulling him under and the Capitol tablets keeping him there. "Alright," he lied. Harold raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you even realize how goddamn scared you made us Peeta? We thought you'd left us, your mind free of your body. I can't speak for Cato but I was terrified," Harold said. Peeta shrugged, like nothing he could possibly say could make Harold feel better about it. "I thought of all the things I still didn't have a chance to do. Like prove to you I wasn't a complete dickhead for one."

"The way you've been . . . acting . . . has been prove enough," Peeta replied slowly. "I know you've changed. It's just . . . I don't know . . ."

"You're scared because you don't know what to feel anymore, I understand," Harold said. "Whenever you realize what way you want to go, Cato and I will be here waiting for you, okay? You don't have to decide on anything right now."

Peeta's eyes drifted to a loose thread on the duvet. "Really?" he asked.

"Really, I promise," Harold replied. "Just, quit with the experimenting, okay?" Peeta shrugged, unsure about whether he could or not. The nights were going to be harder if he stopped now, going completely off the parzosin and just taking the Capitol drugs again. "Remember, I'm here, I'll look after you. So will Cato. Even if you're mad at him right now."

Peeta sighed, tugging the thread off and snapping it between his fingers. "I miss being close to him," he said quietly. "I miss being close to Cato."

Harold smiled at him, looking saddened. "You'll be close to him again, someday. Or close to someone else, if you decide you can't trust him anymore." Peeta bit his lip, chewing on it in deep thought. "Hey, don't do that, you'll wreck your lips." He brushed his fingers over his bottom lip, pulling it out from between his teeth. Peeta rolled his eyes. Who cared if he wrecked his lips anymore?

"I don't want to be close to anyone else, I just miss Cato," he muttered, almost childishly. Harold sighed, looking slightly wounded.

"Maybe if you give other people a chance you'll learn to love them too?" he suggested.

"I don't think so," Peeta replied.

"You don't know unless you try," Harold answered.

Peeta glowered at him. "Try what? Who could I possibly go to who'd be worth giving a try over Cato-" He was cut off when Harold kissed him. It wasn't like his other kisses, which were rough and hard and came with the promise of pain, pain and more pain. This was gentle, almost sweet, and Peeta found himself not wishing to pull away. Was it his anger at Cato's betrayal? Harold's amazing transformation of character? Or was it just the need to be intimate with someone again?

It was like a daze, the kiss with Harold. Peeta knew his brain wasn't functioning properly because it took it as if Cato was kissing him. It thought that it was Cato's lips caressing his own, that it was Cato pushing him gently back against the headboard of the bed, that it was Cato's tongue pushing past his lips and into his mouth. So if it was Cato, what was the problem?

There was something seriously wrong with his head.

Harold (or as his brain thought, _Cato_) started kissing his neck and he just sat there and let him. It wasn't that he felt like he was being violated or that he was taking advantage, he just didn't have a way to respond. It was nice to feel breath brushing his neck again, lips caressing his skin, hands on his body, it was just . . . _nice._ Peeta guessed that it was because he'd been so deprived of another's touch recently, ever since Cato had told him about the practice tribute thing.

As much as Harold's attempts were appreciated, Peeta couldn't help thinking about how tired he was. It seemed to be all he was recently. Tired, tired, tired. Tired of having to think about everything twice, tired of having to worry about other people before he worried about himself , tired of being constantly in the spotlight, tired of having to walk around with a goddamn cane every single godforsaken day. All he wanted was to curl up in a ball and never be seen or heard from again.

"You okay?" Harold-definitely Harold, his brain had finally worked it out-pressed his forehead against the younger boy's temple, letting his lips brush against his ear as he spoke.

"I'm so tired," Peeta whispered in response. Even as he spoke, his eyelids were heavy, threatening to close.

"That's alright. We all get tired from time to time," Harold replied. He cupped his cheek and stroked his cheekbone with his thumb. "And you have more a right than any of us to be tired." He smiled and kissed his forehead gently. "Do you want to go to bed?" Peeta nodded. "Okay, hold on." He got off the bed and pulled back the covers. Once Peeta got under them, he went over to the armchair and sat down on it.

"Aren't you sleeping here?" Peeta asked, confused.

"Nah," Harold replied. "You need your space. I'll be fine here. And remember, we're not far from the Capitol, next thing you know you'll be back in 2. Back home."

Back in 2.

Was 2 really his home now?

~xXx~

Harold was right. They_ were_ back in 2 in no time. Peeta couldn't believe how fast the rest of the Victory Tour had flown by. Maybe the drug experimenting had caused time to go slower and now that both Cato and Harold were keeping an eye on him with what meds he took, it all went faster again. The party in the President's Mansion at the Capitol had been the same as any other party he had attended with Harold while Cato had been in the Games. Full of gushing citizens and, ultimately, a bunch of fangirls who either shipped 'Peetato' or 'Heeta'. It was ludicris. But the food was brilliant.

They left Harold behind in the Capitol. Since he lived there, it only made sense for him to stay there while they went back home to 2. There was something different though. About the whole dynamic of the District. As soon as Cato and Peeta stepped off the train, they noticed it.

Kayla had met them there and, surprisingly, so did Daniel, Cato's ex. Peeta had half expected the guy to start being all charming and saave with his french abilities again but instead both him and Kayla wordlessly ushered them in the opposite direction of the main square and into the Victor's Village.

"Okay, what's going on?" Cato demanded to know once they stopped outside their house.

"New Head peacekeeper bugnut, keep your voice down!" Kayla hissed.

"What happened Karla?" asked Cato.

Kayla shrugged. "We don't know. She vanished on the first day of the Victory Tour. There's a new guy now. He rules with an iron fist, I swear, he's brought up rules I forgot even existed! A guy got whipped to pieces the other day for being out after nine o'clock and having a bit of drink in him. He's also a damn pervert. He'd screw anything, even a melon if he got half the chance."

"It is ridiculous," Daniel added. "They also took the Christmas tree down early."

Peeta frowned. "The Christmas tree?" he asked.

Daniel nodded. Kayla's eyes were locked on the ground, which was still coated with the residue of melted snow. "And . . . there's something else," she said.

"What?" Peeta asked.

She refused to look up at him as she spoke and as she did, her voice was hard and emotionless. "Ava has disappeared. The day they took the tree down, the day _he_ arrived and Karla vanished, Ava went missing, along with the rest of her family."

Peeta felt his heart fall into his stomach, bile rising to his throat as the urge to be sick became strong. Ava was gone? Where did she go? Who was he kidding, he knew where she had gone. She'd been taken away to the Capitol, and so had her family, because he helped her put the bauble onto the Christmas tree. She was gone, very likely killed, and it was his fault.

_Again._

"Hasn't no-one questioned where they'd gone? Surely they'd notice the concidence in them all vanishing at once?" Cato asked.

"Do you honestly think they'd have the courage to ask?" Daniel asked back. "We're all too damn scared to even walk the streets anymore because we don't know what the laws are. Even loitering for too long could be a federal offence for all we know."

"They're even broadcasting the punishments," Kayla said. "Across Panem, in every District, every punishment is broadcast out to everyone for them to see. Just this morning a man was whipped to death for poaching near the fence in District 12. All he killed was a turkey. There's apparently a new head over there too. I think it's everywhere. I think we've all been put under watch."

"I can't believe this," Cato said, looking around. Peeta noted that the Victor's Village hadn't changed much, despite everything. Then again, peacekeepers didn't frequent the Village very often and when they did, it was mostly just to check up on Brutus because they were 'old drinking buddies' or whatever. "What about mum and dad? Are they okay?"

Kayla shrugged. "I suppose," she replied. "It's hard to tell whether they're putting up a front or not. Mario loves it, the bastard. He's already all buddy buddy with the head. I think he even has him over for drinks sometimes, god help Gina."

Peeta vaguely remembered Gina as the girl Cato and Kayla's uncle Mario claimed from District 9. From what he knew of the man, he treated her the way the stereotypical image of partner claimers would treat their partners. He didn't know much but last he heard of her, Gina had had a broken leg over something Mario had done to her and he always had her on a leash. It was times like these that he was glad that all Cato did to him was lie.

"Why? What would they do to Gina?" he found himself asking.

Kayla sat down on the wall outside their house, folding her arms and sighing. Daniel sat beside her, taking it upon himself to answer when she didn't. "The head's a perv. And, no offence, so is their uncle Mario-"

"No," Kayla interjected. "Say that again without the 'no offence'. There is definitely no offence at all, believe me."

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Okay then. Well, the head's a perv and so's their uncle Mario. I wouldn't put it past him to want to have a three-way with poor Gina."

"But if he's straight then why the hell would he want to see our Mairo naked?" Cato demanded.

"Who said he's straight?" Kayla said.

"I thought he was a perv?"

"A bi-curious perv. We were in the square yesterday and he kept checking out Daniel's ass. It was really ridiculous," Kayla replied. She yelped as Cato grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off the wall.

"What about you? He wasn't being creepy with you, was he?" he asked.

"Oh, no," Kayla said. "I'm too young. I think he has it out for the older ones."

Peeta's mind cast back to old Cray. The man was the old head from 12 who must have been replaced since all the others seemed to have been as well. He had been a perv as well, luring young girls to his nest of hell to pay them for sex. He didn't have an age perference but he was most definitely straight. As Katniss used to say, 'He liked the puss.' A statement which took him ages to understand.

"Well, that decides it then," Cato said. "Peeta, you can't go into the square."

Peeta was mortified. "Why?!" he exclaimed.

"I'm not having some pervy head peackeeper eyeing you up down there," Cato said.

"What about you?!" he threw back.

"I can handle it. I'm not sure you'd be able to, after everything that's happened recently," Cato told him calmly. "I can go down to get bits and pieces with Kayla and maybe Daniel." The entire time he said this, Peeta was shaking his head. "This isn't up for discussion, might I add. It's obviously too dangerous."

"Too dangerous?" Peeta exclaimed. "Stop making decisions for me Cato, I can do that on my own. In fact, I think we need milk and bread, since we've been gone so long I'm sure the stuff we already have is off. Why don't we go down now and get some?" He turned on his heel and started down the lane towards the square, stopping half way to turn and ask, "Are you guys coming or not?"

Kayla immediately came after him, her face masked with concern, and Daniel soon followed. Cato stood at the top of the lane for a moment, staring into Peeta's eyes with a hard gaze that asked him why he was being so defiant. Instead of replying, Peeta just jutted out his chin and turned back around, walking back down to the square. He was sick of Cato making his decisions for him, deciding what was best for him all the time without his input at all.

He knew without turning around that Cato was following them.

"How's the french coming along Daniel?" he asked to change the subject.

Slightly surprised, Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Alright," he replied.

"Still using it as a pick up technique?" Kayla questioned.

"Yeah," Daniel answered.

Peeta nodded, trying to keep himself interested in their conversation instead of letting his mind wander to think about how controlling and possessive Cato had become. He knew he was only thinking of what was best for him but he was starting to feel a bit smothered. At least Harold would give him some space to think for himself.

The first thing he saw when he walked into the square, was the whipping post. Centered right where the Christmas tree used to sit, the post looked imposing and made a shiver crawl down Peeta's spine. He turned away from it, he headed in the direction of the market. A kind lady called Zoe worked there who didn't like his skin tone, constantly thinking that it meant he was ill. She'd give him pieces of bread and maybe a drink as he passed, telling him to keep warm.

The first thing he noticed was the magazine stand. Kayla gasped and grabbed one of them, exclaiming, "The new issue of Capitol Couture is out!"

Peeta turned his nose up in distaste. "I hate the front cover."

Kayla glanced at it, her smile faultering. "Oh," she said. "Yeah."

On the front cover of Capitol Couture were the photos of Peeta, Cato and Harold that had been taken when they had been in the Capitol. Glancing at himself on the glossy page, Peeta found himself thankful for body polish, as the bruise on his nose was completely invisible. He was wearing the make-up right now, so Cato's family or Kayla didn't freak out.

"Is all that really true?" Daniel asked.

"What?" Peeta replied.

"The three of you," he answered gesturing to Peeta and Cato then to photo Harold. "It doesn't seem legit enough. Just like the plot of a cheesy YA novel about vampires." He was right, the Capitol were pushing it very far with the love triangle image. Even the pictures were ridiculous.

Peeta stood in the photo on the front of the magazine between Cato and Harold. Cato was behind him, his arms wound around him so his back was pressed against his front with his head resting on his shoulder while Harold was in front of him, down on one knee holding his hand and looking as if he was pleading for a second chance. And all the while Peeta himself had been instructed to 'look away dramatically' as if not favouring either of them.

"It's true," Cato answered. "And a pain in the neck."

Kayla cast her eyes to the ground, trying not to give away to Daniel that she knew the truth about the love triangle. Her eye twitched, as if a battle was raging inside of her. Then again, with three alters in which two of them didn't agree with what she did over the love triangle situation, there probably would be a lot of arguements inside her head.

"You know you'd be doing something very stupid if you threw Cato away," Daniel put forward. "He's a billion times more worth it than this Harold guy."

Peeta shrugged. "I just . . . love them both so much," he said as smoothly as he could.

"Gag, can we talk about something else?" Kayla asked quickly. Before anyone could answer, she looked off to the right and swore. "Shit, the head is coming our way. Did we do anything wrong?"

"Maybe he thinks your shop lifting," Daniel said, pointing at the magazine. Kayla shoved it back onto the stand with a yelp, leaning casually against the side of one of the market stalls as the head approached them.

The man was terrifying. He was big, even bigger than Cato, and seemed to be built like concrete. He carried an air of superiority in the strides he'd take and with just one glance from his dark-almost black-eyes, he made Peeta want to turn and run. "Hello Peacekeeper Greene," Kayla tried to say cheerfully. "How's the day going?"

Peeta turned and looked at Cato's sister while she spoke, begging her to keep going so that he didn't have to turn back and look at the scary man who's eyes he could practically feel burning into him. "Were you shoplifting Miss Hadley?" the peacekeeper asked, getting straight to the point. His voice was deep, gruff, rough like sandpaper.

"What? No," Kayla said immediately. "What would I get from shoplifting? My brother can buy me whatever I want with his victor's money. Ain't that right Cato?" She elbowed Cato and jerked her head at him, a sign to back her up.

"Of course," Cato replied. And, to make a point, he bought Kayla a copy of the Capitol Couture magazine. "She doesn't have a reason to shoplift."

Peacekeeper Greene didn't seem convinced but had no evidence to work with except that he suspected her for holding the mag for too long without purchasing it. "How did the tour go?" he asked. Peeta was surprised by the civilised question and looked at the man, slightly confused.

"Fine," Cato said. "You know, same old same old."

"Hope you didn't cause any trouble." Greene laughed at his own joke, Kayla promptly following as if he was going to have her whipped for not laughing with him. It was then that Peeta knew that the Head Peacekeeper knew what had happened in 12. And he very likely knew what had happened Ava and her family as well. He was half tempted to ask him if he did or not but managed to hold his tongue.

"Tell Mario and Gina I said hi." Greene walked between them to continue on his patrol route, only pausing once to look at them again with a lingering gaze. Peeta couldn't put his finger on who he was looking at exactly but whoever it was, it couldn't be good. When he'd gone, Kayla exhaled in relief. Daniel had placed a hand on Cato's shoulder, as if holding him back. "He's not worth the trouble," he told him.

"Who's not worth what trouble?" Peeta asked. "Greene?"

"How dare he accuse my sister of shoplifting, talk about Mario and Gina in our presence and then do _that_ as if it's okay!" Cato said angrily.

"Do what?"

Kayla raised her eyebrows. "You didn't notice?" she asked.

Peeta frowned. "Notice what?"

Kayla looked at Cato and bit her lip. "Maybe it's best he doesn't know if he didn't notice," she said to him.

"Notice what?!" Peeta exclaimed, slightly exasperated.

"Dude, he was totally checking you out," Daniel said. "Didn't you see? When he walked away and looked back, he was staring at your ass."

Peeta's eyes widened in horror. "What?!" he exclaimed. "You're lying! He was not!"

"I'm going to punch the bastard in the face," Cato said through gritted teeth. "And kick him so hard in the nuts that he'll never have children." Kayla hushed him, probably worried that Greene would suddenly reappear and try to punish him for talking about preventing him from producing future offspring. "He can't do that!"

"Sadly Cato, he can," Daniel sighed.

"He can do anything," Kayla said. "The whole dynamic of the Districts have changed. Nothing will ever be the same again."

That sentence lingered in Peeta's mind for hours after that.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Ever again.

_**A/N: Please R&R, I love hearing what you guys think! :D**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Shorter chapter guys but I wanted to get things moving along if you know what I mean? So a lot happens in this chapter even if it is shorter than a lot of the others.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Nine

It was like something had told him to start doing it. Told him that he was going to need it in the future. The calm before the storm. The calm was his only chance to prepare.

Peeta held the bow in his hands, the sleek metal cool against his palms. Carefully notching an arrow, he pulled it up and tugged the string back, linging it up just as Katniss had taught him to do. She used to show him the ropes in the forests when she wasn't hunting with Gale, instructing him on how to hold a bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim and shoot to kill. She had even told him that he had shown promise, that maybe some day if they practiced hard enough, he would become as good as her.

He was in the training area built underneath Cato's old house. Even though they lived in the Victor's Village, the Hadley family wanted to keep their old home, since it had been handed down to them through the ages, Mr Hadley's great great grandmother being the first person to ever live in it. Peeta had been given a spare key, in case he ever needed to return for something.

Taking a deep breath, he aimed the arrow at the target that sat a couple of metres away. Unexperienced after it being so long since he'd held such a weapon in his hands, he missed the first shot by a mile, the arrow flying pay whisp off to the far left. So instead of trying with the target again, he took a couple of practice shots at nothing in particular. Then, when he turned to the target and tried again, the tip of the arrow buried itself right in the middle. Peeta smiled, unable to stop himself being proud of his acomplishment.

"Well that's just rude," an english accent commented.

Peeta whirled around in surprise, almost notching another arrow up as if Jamie were a threat. Kayla was leaning in the doorway of the training area, a larger than life grin on her face. Except it wasn't Kayla. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets and her hair hung around her shoulders, the signs to tell that Jamie had taken over.

"You're not supposed to be immediately gifted with the ability to aim and shoot," Jamie said. "You're supposed to spend endless hours struggling to get it right, like Kayla did."

"My friend taught me, back in 12," Peeta explained. "We used to spend hours together training. I wasn't immediately gifted." Jamie smiled. He walked over to him and pulled an arrow out of the quiver on his back, pulling his arm back and throwing it towards the target like a spear. It lodged into the middle, knocking Peeta's arrow off it.

"It's something she's always wanted to be skilled at," Jamie explained. "Archery. But she has no aim. The only time she's ever been able to hit a target is when I'm . . . well . . . here."

Peeta frowned, pulling out another arrow and easily knocking Jamie's off the target. "Cato told me none of the alters are trained, that's why he doesn't want Kayla in the Hunger Games," he said. "Because you switch with her when she's in distress and she'll certainly be distressed if someone comes at her with a knife."

Jamie shrugged. "We're not trained," he said. "I'm only lucky. Beth cowers away and cries while Jack would get mad and start screaming at advesaries. We are in no means fit for the Hunger Games. Kayla and I wouldn't stand a chance on our own." Peeta considered this, knowing that if Kayla had ever won the draw and was reaped, and if the Capitol ever discovered her condition, they'd exploit it to disgusting porportions. "She worries about you, Kayla does."

Peeta frowned. "Why would she worry about me?"

"Well, not just you, she worries for Cato as well. As the only alter who believes her when she says that the love triangle is fake, I'd very much like to know why the two of you are so cold with each other," Jamie explained. "If it was fake, shouldn't you be using the time you have when there isn't a camera on you to be as happy as you can be?"

Peeta put the bow down and sat down on one of the benches that lined the walls ."It's not that easy Jamie," he said. "He keeps lying to me."

Jamie frowned thoughtfully. "Out of malice or love?" he asked.

Taken aback by the question, Peeta's eyebrows knitted together. Cato hadn't lied to him out of malice, he knew that much. On many an occasion he had declared that he had been doing it to protect him from the truth. The truth that he had been bought to be killed, that he had been intending to nothing but have sex with him before killing him until he suddenly 'smiled' at him, and that he was an image for uprisings in the Districts. The last one being particularly painful because since he didn't know, he said something stupid and got someone killed. But Cato hadn't known that was going to happen, right? So definitely not malice, but it didn't feel like love either.

"I know Cato, Peeta, it wasn't malice," Jamie said.

"I guess," Peeta reluctantly agreed. "But love? I don't think so."

Jamie sat down beside him, crossing his legs underneath himself. "Look Peeta, I don't know a lot about love. The only love in my life is Kayla. But I am inexplicitly good at reading people and I give kick ass advice, so listen to me when I say this: Don't let Cato go. He may have lied to you but when you think about it hard enough, he was doing it to protect you."

"He was going to kill me," Peeta said slowly. "How is that protecting me?"

"The truth hurts," Jamie answered. "And from what we know of Cato, he could never hurt you. Think about, what did you think of careers before Cato chose you at the choosing ceremony?"

That they were horrific, sadistic, disgusting, _monsters._ "I didn't think very highly of them," he said quietly.

"Of course you didn't, we weren't portrayed properly. All you knew of us was that we were big bad monsters who trained for the Hunger Games like it was an Olympic Sport," Jamie said. "But it also meant that you were stereotypical, judging Cato by the evidence you had of other careers. Sure, the practice tribute thing didn't help but isn't it better that he fell in love with you instead?"

"How do you know about the practice tribute thing? He said that he never told his family, except his dad and Mario," Peeta mumbled.

"I'm no idiot," Jamie replied. "And neither is Kayla. Eventually it became obvious, once you put two and two together. I'm surprised he lasted so long. Cato sucks at lying. Especially to people he loves."

"But what am I supposed to do?" Peeta insisted. "How am I supposed know when he's lying to me and when he's not?"

Jamie shrugged, threading his fingers together and resting his elbows on his knees. "How long as it been since he told you about it? I mean, how long have you two been as cold as you are?" he asked.

Peeta shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "A couple weeks, maybe? Why?"

Jamie pursed his lips and let his back press against the wall. "I don't think he's ever going to forget this. These . . . weeks were you two barely even exchange two sentences to each other. He will never lie to you again. And it wasn't like he had bad intentions when he lied to you in the first place."

"I guess . . ."

"All Kayla and I are trying to say is that we want you to give Cato a chance again. You're klling him."

Peeta focused on one of the dummies across the room, screwing his eyebrows up in concentration. Was Jamie right? Should he give Cato another chance? "I doubt it's killing him," he said.

Jamie frowned. "Peeta, you're all he has. Well, I mean, he has us and his parents but you're the only person who has ever loved him without being obligated to do so. All he can do right now is sit, hoping that you'll forgive him. Without you in his life, I suppose there will nothing but darkness. I don't know a lot about you, Peeta, but something tells me it's the same for you. You could never leave him. I think you're just prolonging the time before you forgive him."

Peeta thought of Cato. His Cato. The career. The chooser. The lover. The liar. The key master. The lock holder. The man who has the claim on his virture. The person he could never live without now, even if he tired. The boy who had taken care of him, even when he hated him. The one who was never going to give up on him. Jamie was right. It was the same for him. He couldn't leave Cato, even if he wanted to.

"But what if he doesn't forgive me for doing that? For prolonging the time?" Peeta asked.

"Relationships aren't measured in the time spent apart," Jamie said. "They're measured in the time spent together, the laughs heard, the smiles created, the tears shed, insides melted, stories told and hearts mended. You, my friend, just need to go to him. Believe me, he'll forgive you."

Peeta played with the strap of the quiver on his back. "Where is he?" he asked.

Jamie slapped his knees and stood up. "He's out right now. I think he went down to the square for something. Should be back soon." He gestured to the targets. "You should keep practicing. You really have something here." With that being said, Jamie smiled and headed for the exit. Peeta stood up as well, picking the bow back up and gathering up the arrows. "Oh, and Peeta?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around to face Jamie.

"Remember the Quarter Quell is being announced tonight."

Peeta nodded. "Thanks."

He didn't get a chance to speak to Cato. He only returned in time for the Quarter Quell theme to be announced. The family had gathered together in the Hadley household for the announcement: Mr and Mrs Hadley, Kayla, Cato and Peeta. President Snow stepped up onto his platform, making the usual speech about the Dark Days before a boy dressed up all formal like held out a box of envelopes.

Snow took out the envelope with the _75_ imprinted on it, the number of this year's Games. Peeta wondered what this Quell's theme was going to be, knowing that Cato was going to have to help Enobaria and Brutus mentor the tributes. While watching him open the envelope, Kayla mindlessly took his hand, holding it tight. Peeta looked at their joined hands and felt a surge of acceptance. His talk with Jamie made him feel closer to both him and Kayla, like he could talk to them about anything now.

President Snow took the card out and coughed, pausing for dramatic effect.

_"For the 75th Anniversary of the Hunger Games, the 3rd Quarter Quell, to prove that even the strongest can not over-ride the Capitol, nor can anyone related or close to them, the tributes will be reaped from the victors of each District who had been the youngest when they won, coupled with a relative or friend alongside them."_

It took Peeta a moment to understand. Both Enobaria and Brutus had won when they were eighteen. Cato had won when he was seventeen, having just turned eighteen after the 74th Games. That meant . . . that meant Cato was going back into the arena. Heart pounding, Peeta thought of who else that put on the line: Cato's parents, Kayla, his friends even . . . dare he say it . . . _him_?

Kayla had burst into tears and had fallen off the sofa, her hands covering her face in horror. Mr and Mr Hadley were hugging each other, neither crying but neither looking happy either. Cato hadn't moved. He was sitting on the arm of the sofa, staring at the t.v in disbelief. His mouth was open slightly, as if he was about to say something but couldn't. Before he could really think about it, Peeta had gotten off the sofa and went over to him, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him as tight as he could.

He couldn't believe it. He honestly couldn't. Was Snow allowed to do that? Surely it wasn't a concidence that this was happening. That this was the Quell theme the year the Districts are unsettled? He wanted to burst into tears like Kayla, to scream at the President for being so goddamn cruel. But he couldn't. He had to be strong, for Cato, because he wasn't the one who's place in the Games was already set in stone.

It took Cato a moment to even realize that Peeta was there but once he did, he hugged him back, so tight that he couldn't breathe, but Peeta no longer cared. Who needed breath anyway? He didn't even know what to say. He couldn't tell him that everything was going to be fine. Everything wasn't going to be fine and this was a fact. And Cato would probably be able to tell when he was lying anyway, so what was the point? So, instead, he said something else.

"I love you."

He felt Cato's heart quicken when he said this and he tightened his arms around him. "I love you too," the career had murmured. "So, so much."

That night they had slept together for the first time in what felt like forever. Wrapped up in Cato's arms once again, Peeta had never felt more safe. They hadn't tried to get intimate again because the road to recovery was going to be a long one that was going to have to be taken in baby steps but he still felt so much better now that he was sleeping with him again.

"Why did you forgive me?" Cato asked quietly.

"Jamie helped me see the light," Peeta answered. "I had tried to get to you before the Quell announcement but you didn't come home until it was about to be played. Just so that you don't think I was doing it out of pity or anything. I still gueninally love you. At one point I had thought that you'd maybe moved on though. Went to be with Daniel or something."

Cato laughed gently, pulling him closer to him. "I'd never do that. I was here waiting, hoping, _praying_ that you'd come back to me. And I swear to you, right here, right now, that I will never, ever lie to you ever again."

"I believe you," Peeta said. Because it was true. They didn't have time anymore to not be together. Not when Cato was being reaped for the Hunger Games again. No. They couldn't waste a single minute of the time they had with each other. Not anymore. Not a single second.

_**The Morning of the Reaping:**_

Peeta stood nervously in the roped area with Kayla, Mr and Mrs Hadley, Daniel, Mario, Iggie and a small group of Cato's friends who he'd never met before. These were all the people eligable for being reaped as his relatives and people close to him. Cato was on his own on the other side of the stage, being the youngest person who had won the Games for District 2 still alive.

Mira didn't hold her usual joyful persona as she stepped up to the reaping bowls. She kept a brave face though and twittered, "Welcome, welcome to the reaping of the 75th Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell! Isn't this exciting!" She went to Cato's bowl first, since there was only one name in it anyway. When she said his name out loud, Peeta shut his eyes, as if warding the pain away. It was like it had all just been another nightmare up until now. Now it was all too real.

Cato was very good at staying strong. He hadn't cried once about it and even smiled as he took his place on stage.

"And now to reap the relative or friend," Mira said, still fighting to keep upbeat. There were plenty of names in this bowl and she rummanged around for a bit before pulling one out. Kayla took his hand and held it tight, her breathing heavy and uneven. Time seemed to slow down as she went back over to her microphone too call out the name. Peeta held his breath, waiting to hear his name. It was very likely going to be his name. Maybe Snow had it rigged because he was the rebellion's image or something?

But it wasn't his name.

"Kayla Hadley."

This time Cato did show a negative emotion. His head whipped around to stare at Mira in horror. Peeta's eyes widened in mortification. Kayla's breath caught and her face drained of colour. She lifted her hand to her mouth in fear and she started to tremble. Peeta couldn't believe it. He looked around at the faces in the crowd. The shaking of heads, the tutting, the revulsion evident. Mrs Hadley had started to cry and Peeta didn't blame her. Both her children were reaped for the Hunger Games. And only one could come out.

Cato's voice came into his head. Something he had said back in that week before the Games last year.

_"She couldn't handle it. Her DID was caused because her personality split when put under immense pressure that had her petrified. Jamie, Beth and Jack are all in her mind to keep her safe. They switch with her when they think she's in trouble or might be on the verge of a breakdown. Now, Jamie, nor Beth, nor Jack have had any training at all. What if they switched with her during the Games when confronted by a tribute with a knife? She wouldn't know how to defend herself."_

Peeta was finally snapped into reality when Kayla let go of his hand. It was this small action, this minor detail, that made him blurt out what he did. He didn't think about the consquences, he didn't think about anything, he _couldn't_ think about anything other than the need to keep Kayla safe. To keep her out of the Hunger Games. Because of her DID, she wouldn't stand a chance. And he could not stand by and send Kayla Hadley to her death. He just couldn't.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Kayla stopped on her way over her spot. She turned around, her face twisted in dread. "No!" she exclaimed. "You can't!" Peeta climbed over the robe and looked at Mira to see if it was okay. The pink eyed woman nodded. "Peeta, you can't do this!" Kayla insisted.

"I can and I will," Peeta told her. Kayla screamed and put her arms around his waist, using all of her strength to pull him back. God, she was going to make him cry. And he couldn't cry. That would make him seem weak and the other tributes would mark him as a target if he seemed weak. "Kayla, please let go."

"No!" Giving up on the pulling, Kayla snatched the end of his cane and tried to use it like a tug of war rope to drag him away. "You're not going into the Games, I'm not going to let you!" Eventually, Mr Hadley grabbed her when she wasn't looking, taking her by surprise so she dropped the cane. She lashed out at him, kicking and scratching, but he managed to get her away.

Finally able to compose himself, Peeta exhaled and took his spot on the stage. He didn't dare look Cato in the eye, fearing what sort of look he'd recieve. Would he appreciate what he did? Hate him for it? Be angry, sad, happy? He didn't know. He wasn't even sure which he wanted him to be. Only one thought was filling his mind. One thing and one thing only.

_"I am going into the Hunger Games. I am going into the Hunger Games with Cato."_

_**A/N: I thought that it would be a nice twist that Peeta didn't get reaped by a card in the bowl. And don't think that him and Cato are completely okay again, there's still a lot of mending to be had.**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I got a bit distracted with some of my other stories.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Ten

Kayla struggled in her father's arms, yelling for him to let her go. Peeta found it difficult to even look at her, the sight of her in such grave distress breaking his heart. Cato wasn't looking at her, his head turned in the opposite direction with his jaw clenched. It was the career facade that he had to maintain. The idea that he was not a weakling who would cry because his sister was crying but was a strong fighter who wasn't going to bow out because of some silly Quarter Quell rule.

But Peeta knew it was killing him.

Taking matters into his own hands, Peeta turned to the family and friends in the roped off area, speaking specifically to Kayla. "It's okay Kayla, we get to say goodbye, we can talk then-"

"No, you can't," Peackeeper Greene interuppted.

Peeta spun on his heel to look at the man. "What?" he asked slowly. A different peacekeeper came between himself and Cato, grabbing both their elbows and pulling them into the Justice building.

"You're both going straight to the train," Greene said.

"What?!" Kayla screamed from behind them.

Cato was facing her now, his face a picture of perfect horror. Peeta felt how Cato looked, feeling entirely horrified at the reality of what was happening. He looked at his partner as they were dragged closer to the Justice Building. His face was weighted down with sadness, as he realized that he wasn't going to get to speak to his family before they left and, very likely, never returned.

Peeta hated to see him looking like that.

Well, since they were going into the Hunger Games, there was nothing to lose, right?

So he picked up his cane and whacked the peacekeeper around the head with it. It knocked the guy clean off his feet. Peeta jumped back, surprised that he'd managed to hit the man hard enough so he'd fall, and looked up at Cato with wide eyes. "Go, quick!" he exclaimed, pointing at his family. The career was slightly stunned as well, glancing down at the man on the ground like he was an alien who'd fallen from the sky.

Finally coming to his senses, Cato jumped over the fallen man and ran over to his family. The onlookers from 2 actually cheered Peeta for his actions. Peeta couldn't fight the small smile that forced its way onto his face as Cato took his sister from his father's arms and held her tight, letting her cry into his shoulder. No peackeepers went after him, which was disconcerting but amazing at the same time.

Peacekeeper Greene actually stepped _on top_ of the injured man, giving himself some height, and pulled his gun out of his holster. He fired it up into the sky, sending a deafening sound to blow across the crowd. Everyone fell silent immediately, the only sound being Kayla's small sniffles as she regained her composure. "Everyone clear the square!" Greene yelled. "Reaped tributes, train station, _now!"_ He stepped off the peacekeeper Peeta whacked, giving him a kick that sent a clear message of _Get up!_

Cato reluctantly put Kayla down, murmuring, "It'll be okay," to her before nodding to his parents and joining Peeta by the door of the Justice Building. They were about to go in the direction of the train station when Greene approached them and yanked the cane out of Peeta's hands.

"Hey, he needs that!" Cato exclaimed, trying to snatch it back.

Greene held it out of his reach. "He lost the right to have this thing the moment he assaulted one of my peacekeepers on live television," he hissed. He then proceeded to snap it in half. Peeta couldn't believe it. How many canes was he going to lose before all this was over? As if to ram the point home harder, Greene stamped his foot down onto the glass, grinding it into the ground with the heel of his boot.

"You asshole, how's he supposed to walk?!" Cato yelled.

"Cato, don't, he's not worth it," Peeta quickly said. "I can make it to the train station on my own."

Greene grinned. "That's right Hadley, listen to your little pansy boyfriend, go on now to the train station."

Cato scowled and squared up to him. "What do you call him-"

Peeta grabbed his arm and tugged him across the stage to the steps leading off to the train station before he started a fight. He could hear Greene laughing behind him and had to pull as hard as he could to get Cato to follow him. The career was fuming, muttering angrily to himself about how he couldn't believe Greene had the nerve to talk to him like that and break his cane like it was his to break. Peeta let him blow his steam, gritting his teeth and wincing at the small stabs of pain that were already prickling through his leg.

"That son of a bitch, can you believe him? I'd have ripped his head off if you hadn't have stopped me." Cato continued to rant. Peeta nodded along with his words, having no choice but to limp now that they had been walking for about a mile. Suddenly noticing his perdicament, Cato pulled to a stop. "Are you alright?"

"Just a bit sore. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Cato lifted Peeta up, carrying him like a bride and groom on their wedding day. Peeta yelped and hooked his arm around the career's neck. "We'll get another cane made. Cane mark 3. And I'll make sure that bastard Greene pays for the damage. You can't go around breaking other people's canes!"

"Cato, it's fine, I'm fine, you can put me down, honestly," Peeta insisted. There were people at the train station, various citizens of District 2 who started making their way there as soon as the tribute's had been announced. They got onto the train and the vehicle immediately took off at a breakneck speed. Cato went to the sitting room and put Peeta down on the sofa, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Tears were glittering in his eyes but he had a skill had being able to hold them back.

"Thank you for saving Kayla," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Peeta shrugged, knowing it was water off a duck's back to him. "You were right, about her DID. There would have been no way she could have fought in the Games. Kayla has a better shot at life than I ever would."

"Don't talk like that," Cato said, his voice dangerously close to a snap. "You're not going to die. I'll make sure of it. I'll kill every single person in that arena just to make sure you survive this-"

"Cato-"

"No. Don't even try and do that. I survived once, that's enough. You're not going to die, Peeta. You're just _not_ okay?" Cato fell down beside him on the sofa. "You may not let me kiss you or make love to you anymore but that's not going to change the fact that I love you and, in loving you, I'd rather die than let those other people kill you."

Something told Peeta that if he tried to convince Cato that he wasn't going to last five minutes in the arena, it was going to be like trying to talk to a brick wall. Feeling some sort of magnetic pull towards the career, Peeta shuffled closer to him on the sofa, feeling at immediate ease when Cato put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

Fishing for the remote down the side of the sofa, Cato switched the t.v on so they could watch the reaping re-caps.

The reapings for District 1 were ironically both victors. The youngest person to win the Games in 1 was a girl called Cashmere. She won her Games when she was fifteen years old. Her older brother, Gloss, had won the year after and was then reaped beside her for the Quarter Quell again. What were the odds of that happening, even for the first District?

Peeta didn't even want to look at the carnage of the District 2 Quarter Quell reaping. Cato was reaped, Kayla was reaped, Peeta volunteered, she started screaming, Greene wouldn't let them say goodbye, he hit a peacekeeper with his cane, Cato said goodbye and Greene broke Peeta's cane. It was an eventful two minutes that left the commentators baffled and amazed.

He didn't really pay attention to the rest of the Districts because his mind drifted away to other places. Only a couple of people stood out. Finnick Odair (for the obvious reason that he was the youngest tribute in _history_ to win the Games) and a woman called Mags for District 4. Peeta wasn't sure how they were connected to each other but it must have been something serious because Finnick hugged her tight while she just looked saddened. Two morphling addicts for District 6. A man who'd lost his hand in his Games for 11.

Peeta paid attention again when it came to his old District. 12. Since he was the only living victor for his District, Haymitch Abernathy was reaped. From what Peeta knew, Haymitch didn't have any family left, and he was always alone so he didn't have any friends either. So who was going to go in with him?

Answer: Hazelle Hawthorne.

Hold on, Hazelle Hawthorne? What had _she_ to do with Haymitch Abernathy? Peeta couldn't believe it how hard the Hawthorne family were suffering. Who were going to look after Rory, Vick and Posy? Maybe Katniss' mother would take them into her care with Prim . . . the District orphanage was a gruesome place otherwise.

"The competition doesn't look too bad," Cato pointed out. "I think I could take 'em. My guess would be that the biggest threat is that Odair guy from 4."

"I guess," Peeta replied. He pushed his glasses up his nose and picked at the braces on his teeth. "I hope I won't have to go in with these on . . . I look too much of a weakling right now than having a pair of glasses and braces weighing me down."

Cato frowned. "Are you kidding? Peeta, all the tributes just watched you beat a peacekeeper around the head with your cane. Braces or not, glasses or not, I don't think they're going to put you under the 'weakling' category. Of course, they might have filed you under their enemies category . . ."

Peeta shrugged. Whatever the others thought of him didn't matter anyhow. It wasn't like he was going to befriend any of them. Why befriend people if you know they're going to die, maybe some forcibly by your own hand? Peeta didn't like the idea of killing anyone, he didn't want to change who he was for the benefit of the Games. For the benefit of Snow or anyone else from the Capitol. Was he going to have to change his morals and beliefs just to get himself through this? No, he couldn't.

He couldn't be another piece in their games.

~xXx~

"One more tightening before they come off." Cinna tried to be chirpy as he tightened Peeta's braces for the last time. "They have to come off before your interview the day before the Games as they could be considered or used as a weapon."

Peeta frowned. "What? How could you use braces as a weapon?"

"You'd be surprised," Cinna replied, clipping the metal wire with his plyers and hooking the new one through. Peeta watched as he picked up small orange tabs that he would use to tighten the wire around. "The orange is for your chariot ride costume. I thought if you're going to have to wear your braces then you might as well wear them in style right?"

"I guess?" Peeta replied, opening his mouth again so Cinna could tighten the orange tab around.

When he'd finished, Cinna then proceeded to slip Peeta's glasses off his nose. Blinking in disoreintation, Peeta squinted and shook his head, as if it would clear his vision. "Open your eyes wide for me," his stylist requested. Doing as he was told, Peeta opened his eyes wide and squeaked in surprise when Cinna put something in them. "Contact lens," he explained. "With a twist."

"A twist?" Peeta asked. He blinked again, his vision focusing into sharper spaces, no longer blurry at all. Cinna held the mirror in front of his face so he could see what this 'twist' was. The contacts weren't transparent, they were a blend of orange and red and yellow, flickering together when he'd move his head the slightest way. Added ontop of the makeup already on his face, it actually made him look different. Not in the alien way that the Capitol made him look but in the nautral way that Cinna never failed to make him look like.

"Oh, and here you go!" Cinna produced a brand new cane which was black like charred coal with a flare of crystalised flame at the top. Peeta was amazed. It looked amazing! A part of him was thankful that Greene broke his ridiculous glass one. It was too Capitol for him anyway. This new one had Cinna written all over it. Class and style and taste. It was beautiful. "You're going to do just fine kid," Cinna said. "Trust me."

"Thank you Cinna," Peeta said, taking the cane. "For everything."

He arrived at the bottom floor where all the chariots were set out. Cato was no where to be seen, so he stayed by the District 2 horse because he didn't know any of the other tributes, even though they all seemed to know each other. Peeta wondered why he had to be on fire again as he stroked the horse's mane. Maybe it was because he's orginally from 12 and this was the angle they were going with again for the Quarter Quell? He looked at his new cane and smiled, glad to be rid of the Capitol tat.

Cinna really was a talented man. He'd made a waist coat out of black silk, the front of it covered with red, orange, yellow and blue crystals that made him look like he was on fire when he moved. This was matched with tight black leggings and leather boots that laced up to his knees. Peeta resisted the urge the run a hand through his hair to mess it back up, knowing that all he'd get was a handful of sticky glitter gel and messed up hair.

"Peeta."

Peeta turned, surprised to be called upon by one of the others. Even more so, called upon by Finnick Odair.

In the Capitol, Finnick Odair was a bit of a celebrity. When he was in the Capitol while Cato was in the Games, he never heard the end of this guy from District 4. The women-and even some of the men-fawned over the guy like he was the best thing since sliced bread. After having won his Games at the age of fourteen, the Capitol legally couldn't do anything with him until he was an appropriate age but, once he was old enough, his natural good looks were exploited the point where Peeta didn't even think he looked like that fourteen year old anymore.

But he _was_ attractive, Peeta couldn't deny that. Finnick Odair wasn't really his type though. Sex symbols were too confident. They made him uncomfortable. Especially now, since Finnick's stylist's angle must have been 'the more the Capitol see of him, the better'. There was knot of fish net covering his crotch so he wasn't _technically_ naked but it was still close enough.

"Want a sugar cube?" The District 4 tribute grinned and held out a pile of sugar cubes. "They're supposed to be for the horses but who cares about them, right? They have their whole lives to eat sugar, where as you and me, well, we see something sweet, better grab it."

"Um, no thanks," Peeta answered apprehensively. Deciding to hide his discomfort, he added, "I'd love to borrow that costume sometime though."

Finnick smirked-a smirk that probably sent the Capitol women into a bundle of hormones-and said, "I have to say you look absoloutely terrifying in your get-up." He made a fleeting gesture at his eyes, probably referring to the contacts Cinna gave him. "What happened to the lovesick school boy trapped in a love triangle?"

"He grew up," Peeta muttered.

"Yes, he did, didn't he? It's too bad about this Quell thing, you know, you could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol, money, jewels, anything you wanted," Finnick said, leaning casually against the side of the horse. Peeta shrugged, still stroking the horse's mane.

"Well, I don't like jewels and I have as much money as I need . . ." Peeta frowned, wishing he could just be left alone to be a recluse. Was that a bad thing? "What about you, Finnick Odair, what do you spend all your money on?"

Finnick pursed his lips with a frown and a smile. "I haven't dealt with anything as common as money in years."

"Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?" Peeta asked. Finnick was well known for his fleeting relationships with women. Every week there would be a new one on his arm. It wasn't that big a deal-especially when sometimes these relationships would be with men-since sexuality was a free for all in the Capitol and nearly every single citizen hoped they would be his next conquest. He didn't mean that these people paid for his company in an offensive way, of course. He was being sarcastic.

Finnick didn't seem to notice anyway, since he leaned forward, so close that his nose was nearly touching Peeta's. Peeta stiffened, disliking the proximity of this man and his oh so clear near-nudity. "With secrets," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What about you, boy on fire? Got any secrets worth my time?"

"Nope, I'm an open book," Peeta lied. "It seems a lot of people know my secrets before I even do myself."

"Sadly, I think that's true." Finnick looked up and grinned. "Uh-oh, Cato's coming. I better go." He sashayed his way around Peeta, pausing by his side so he could lean in and whisper in his ear, "See you later." Wincing and trying not to flush at the way his lips brushed his ear, Peeta nodded quickly.

"What did he want?" Cato frowned, stopping by their chariot.

Peeta pushed up on his tip toes, intimidating what Finnick did to him, and whispered, "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets," he said, in the same breathy voice as Finnick's.

Cato laughed. "Urgh, seriously?"

"Mmm-hmm," Peeta nodded.

Cato paused and smiled, slightly sheepishly. "You look . . . amazing," he said. Peeta ducked his head to look at the floor, biting his lip shyly. He didn't look that amazing . . . right? Then again, he had never had that much faith in himself when it came to how he looked. He examined what Cato was wearing, which reflected his District's industry of Masonary. It was a slightly more dated and improved version of his gladiator outfit from last year, with brighter gold and bronze materials.

"You look good too," Peeta said, too shy too say 'amazing' back.

Cato stood there, just staring at him for a moment. Peeta tried to hold his gaze but had to avert it on several occasions, the stare too intense for him to handle. Finally snapping out of it, Cato said, "Um, Cinna told me that we have to be above the crowd. No waving or smiling or anything, just act like they're all beneath us." Peeta wondered for a second if he could do that. Be small, he could do that. Recoil, he could do that. Hide, he could also do that. But be above everyone? No. He could not do that. Sensing this, Cato smiled reassuredly. "Just remember I'm right beside you."

Cato got into the chariot first and then helped Peeta up. Being on the right side of the vehcile for once seemed strange but was definitely not as painful when the thing jerked into life. As they got closer to the doors, Cato slipped his hand into Peeta's, squeezing it gently. Inhaling deeply, Peeta closed his eyes, only opening them when they were out in the open.

Everything was so overwhelming. The light, the cheering crowd, the noise, the atmosphere, it was all so consuming that Peeta nearly fell out of the chariot if it hadn't have been for Cato holding his hand. He hadn't really been listening to the capitol crowd too much, being too focused on the 'be above it all' act, but half way down the runway, Peeta noticed that most of them were calling out at him himself and Cato. Wait, what? Why?

President Snow made a speech about the Quarter Quell, of how the word Quell symbolizes crushing rebellion and of how the twist every twenty five years reminded everyone of the rebellion that did wreck the country and of how the Capitol are, and always will be, in power.

When the chariots circuited back around, Peeta couldn't get off the thing fast enough. He didn't like the attention and couldn't wait to blend back into the shadows again. This didn't come as quickly as he would have liked though because as soon as his feet touched the floor, he recognized Harold marching towards him.

Before he could even say hello, the man had grabbed his face and kissed him fierecely. Taken aback, Peeta fell back against the chariot, not sure what to do with himself. "Why are you such a reckless idiot? Volunteering like that, you complete moron." the Capitol man asked when he'd pulled away. Peeta couldn't help feeling all the eyes on them as Harold stared him down angrily.

"Erm . . . I don't know?" he tried.

Harold folded him into his arms, resting his chin on top of his head. "I swear to God, you're going to be the death of me," he muttered.

"Okay, that's enough, don't you have a place to be Woods?" Cato asked dryly, jumping down from the chariot as well.

Letting go, Harold shot him a withering look. "Don't get jealous Hadley," he said dryly.

"Don't start," Peeta quickly said, not wishing to see conflict arising here in front of everyone. "Aren't you supposed to be getting along now?"

"It's hard to when he's got his paws all over you," Cato muttered angrily.

"Just because you've got paws, doesn't mean we all do," Harold quickly retorted.

Peeta groaned and sat down on the edge of the chariot. "Please stop, the both of you," he said. "What's gotten into you?"

Harold shook his head. "You chose him, didn't you?" he said. "I can see it in your eyes, you chose him . . . Damnit, I should have worked harder to prove I'd changed . . ."

"I haven't chose anyone!" Peeta quickly lied. "Harold, please don't get angry, not here. Not in front of everyone." Harold looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked, winking at him. Oh! It was a _bit!_ A love triangle promotion bit thingy. Oh okay, that made much more sense. Cato must have noticed the wink as well because his anger changed from real to theatrical.

"You think I don't get paranoid either?!" he exclaimed. "Those nights you spend together without me there. I go to bed every night worrying that he's going to choose you over me! We are both going through the same thing here, don't you dare act like the only victim in this!"

"No one's a victim!" Peeta said, putting on hysterics.

"You think I don't have nights like that either?" Harold threw back. "And now it's your fault he's in the Games, because he had to save your twerp of a sister."

Act or not, Cato pulled his arm back and punched Harold in the face. Peeta jumped, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe Harold said that about Kayla and that Cato had the nerve to punch him for it in front of everyone. Swiping the blood away from below his eye with his thumb, Harold just laughed. "Good thing it's my night then." He jumped forward and grabbed Peeta from the chariot, carrying him the way Cato had earlier when they were getting on the train.

"Come on Harold, this is ridiculous," Peeta said when the Capitol man started walking away. Cato waited at the chariot, probably counting the steps Harold would take before he would follow so that they'd have the right distance between them so that he wouldn't catch up right away. "Urgh, you two are insufferable."

Once they reached the elevator, Cato came after them, with a look on his face that could crack a mirror. Well, they'd certainly provided a show for the others anyway. When the doors closed behind them, the intensity vaporised and they reverted back to normal. "This is getting tiring," Harold sighed. "Do you know how fast I had to run to get down here when Snow sent me the message saying to make a scene after the chariot rides? God, I've never ran a marathon before but somehow I think that was worse."

"Insult my sister again and it will be more than your eye, are we clear?" Cato warned.

"Crystal," Harold replied.

"You can put me down now," Peeta pointed out.

"Nah, we're good," Harold said, kissing his cheek. Peeta resisted the urge to wipe the spot with his hand because it would just be insulting to Harold, who didn't know that he was giving Cato a second chance. "You look beautiful, by the way." Oh god, not more compliments. Forcing down the blush he felt rushing to his cheeks, Peeta smiled weakly in thanks.

When the doors opened, Harold finally put him down, letting him get out first. Out on the floor, Peeta immediately noticed Mya standing there leaning against the wall, the sight of her making him feel uneasy. Beside her though, was a new avox. Someone who stood stiffly with their head bowed like a proper avox should. Mya nudged the new girl and when she looked up, Peeta's heart stopped.

The new avox was Ava.

**A/N: Again, I'm sorry for the long wait. I didn't mean for it to take so long.**

**Please R&R! **


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